


Refuge

by Finchyxpanic



Category: Tom Hiddleston AU - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Kidnapping, Love, Organized Crime, Secrets, Sex, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:33:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 88,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Finchyxpanic/pseuds/Finchyxpanic
Summary: Alma George had always craved adventure.Adventure was what Thomas Hiddleston offered her.Behind the suits and money was a man who craved the same excitement from life that she did.It was love at first sight.But Thomas Hiddleston was also a man with a dark secret, and when that secret causes Alma to question the morals of her true love, she is faced with a terrifying decision, and she's forced on an adventure she doesn't want to take.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I realise it's been a very long time since I've posted anything new. I've been working on something else entirely which will see the light of day at some point before Christmas. 
> 
> However, this idea has been floating around for the best part of a year, and when I decided I was ready to start working on a new fic, I finally decided to give this one a go!
> 
> I'm so excited to share this story with you - let me know what you think!!!
> 
> Enjoy!

The sea wind howled and along with it came sheets of salty rain, soaking Alma as she hurried along the cobbled path, uphill, towards the small, remote coastal cottage. The quaint building sat exposed on the cliff edge, surrounded by a low stone wall and a sparse scarring of trees. She paused briefly, and pulled her waterproof jacket more tightly around her, and glanced back to where the car was parked on edge of the road next to the gate. It would be easy to get back to it, easy to get in and drive away. Although she was regretting that she couldn’t have parked it somewhere out of sight.

Never mind. It would have to do.

She turned back towards the cottage and started moving again, only stalling as a particularly strong gust of wind and rain came at her face, and soaked her, obscuring the view through the lenses of her spectacles. Alma wiped the rain off her glasses and powered forward.

Last time she’d been here it at been at the height of summer. It had been hot, but beautiful. The whitewashed building was a little piece of heaven on the Cornish coast. She and Tom had stayed a week, spending their days on the beach, and she taught him to surf (badly), they’d walked miles along the cliffs, eaten fish and chips on the promenade, and enjoyed the ciders the local pubs had to offer. They spent their nights playing scrabble, then making love into the small hours. She’d traveled the world, and had some of the most wondrous experiences. But that week with Tom in Cornwall had been the happiest she’d ever felt.

But he’d ruined all that now. He’d tarred that happy memory.

For what? Money? Pride?

A dim light flickered in a window at the front of the property. Alma approached as quietly as she could, thankful for the cover of darkness, and peered through the window. She prayed for a second that Brie was wrong, that maybe she was lying and this was all just some cruel trick. Though she knew it wasn’t, Brie might have hated her guts, but she’d never be cruel. She’d also never come to her for help unless she was utterly desperate.

The front window belonged to the small country kitchen, and it was just how Alma remembered. Except now seated at the heavy oak table was a man she vaguely recognised as one of Tom’s men. She didn’t know his name, she’d always made a point of keeping their relationship and Tom’s business as separate as possible. Tom liked it that way, and honestly she needed it that way. The less she knew the better, but in hindsight maybe that had been a mistake.

The goon, for lack of a better word, slouched at the table, lit cigarette in one hand, and a mug of tea in front of him, next to it his hand gun, laying casually on the worn wooden surface. Alma bit her lip, and then shot out sight as another man entered the room. She could just make out their gruff conversation through the single pane window.

“They gone down yet?” said one, Alma presumed the one at the table.

“No fucking chance. The boy won’t stop fucking crying. Is Osman on her way?” said the other way.

“Boss said within the hour.”

Alma took in a shaky breath. There it was. All the confirmation she needed. There were children inside, and she needed to get them out. She needed to get them safe, and home to their family. They did not belong here, there was no justifiable argument for why they needed to be involved in whatever business arrangement of Tom’s had gone sideways.

Mustering as much confidence as she could, Alma hurried to the front door and banged her fisted against it three times. Moments later a gruff voice came from the other side.

“Who is it?”

“Erm… It’s Alma George. Mr. Hiddleston sent me…Ms. Osman couldn’t make it.”

The sound of bolts being opened could be heard on the other side. The door opened, no more than two inches, chain latch still attached, and she was met with the face of that man who had been slouched at the kitchen table moments before.

“Miss. George? Mr Hiddleston didn’t make us aware of your arrival,” uncertainty was evident on the man’s face and in his tone. His eyes darted past her, is if checking she was alone.

“Of course not. No one’s meant to know I’m here, right?” Alma shot back, “I’m sorry, would you let me in, I’m soaking, it’s freezing out here.”

The door closed momentarily and she heard the chain jangle, then the door opened, and the second she saw her opportunity, she pushed in past the man.

“My apologies, Miss. George, this is most unexpected,” the man quickly closed and bolted the door, then hurried to follow her into the kitchen. The second goon quickly stood from where he’d seated himself at the table, his hand going to his gun holster.

“Settle down, sir,” Alma told him firmly, “My apologies this is all a bit unusual. Tom of course didn’t want to make it known that I would be coming down here. Ms. Osman isn’t very…maternal in her nature, and he felt it better that I came to look after the children.”

Both men looked at one another, and mumbled their agreement. Really, Alma was quite impressed at her acting abilities. Neither one of them had questioned her yet, nor had they gotten on the phone to her boyfriend. Thank goodness.

“Where are they then? The children?” Alma asked sharply, and the goon behind her snapped into action.

“Of course, this way, Miss. George,” Alma turned and followed him down the hall, and up the narrow flight of stairs into the upstairs landing, and pulled out a set of keys.

“You locked them in?” Alma queried, trying to keep her voice level as anger and disgust simmered under the surface.

“The girl is a flight risk,” he grumbled, “And a vicious little bitch,” he briefly tugged up the sleeve of his jacket and revealed a red, swollen bite mark on his forearm. He dropped the fabric and pushed open the door.

The sight that met Alma’s eyes was heart-breaking, and she’d not really steeled herself for it. The children were being kept in the master bedroom, the room she’d shared with Tom. The oak framed bed was in the centre of the room, against the back wall, with the same clean white sheets she remembered. In the middle of the large bed were the two children Brie had told her of. A young girl, possibly seven or eight years old, and cradled against her a small boy, who couldn’t have been older than three, who was shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. As Alma took a step forward the girl’s arms tightened around her brother, and she bared her teeth and hissed at them.

“Could you fetch some drinks? And something to eat, they must be starving,” Alma turned to the man.

“But, Miss. George –”

“Now, please,” she insisted, and the man nodded once, looking warily at the children before turning back towards to staircase. She closed the door behind her, “Hello…my names, Alma.”

The girl didn’t answer and the boy hid his face deeper in his sisters arms. Instead the young girl’s eyes widened and she glared at Alma.

“I need you to be really, really quiet,” Alma continued, dropping her voice low, “I’m going to get you out, get you both back to your Mummy and Daddy, okay? But I need you to be quiet, and I need you to do everything I tell you.”

“Mummy?” the boy turned his head a little, and the girl shushed him.

“That’s right,” Alma nodded, taking a step closer. “I’m going to get you back to your Mummy. But I need you to be a really brave boy. I need you to listen to me, okay?” she addressed the boy but looked at the girl, who have a little, hesitant nod, “What are you names?”

“Minnie,” the girl squeaked quietly, “And this is my little brother, Huxley…he’s really scared.”

“I know, I know you’re both scared,” Alma perched on the edge of the bed, “But I promise, all the while I’m here, you are both safe. No one is going to hurt you, and I’m going to do everything I can to get you home, okay?”

The girl nodded, more confidently this time.

“I need you to just pretend a little while longer, okay? Just go along with me?” again the girl nodded.

Alma’s heart raced in her chest. She’d managed the first hurdle. Now was the hard part. Getting these children out, and getting them back to their parents and back to safety.

Harder still, she would need to get herself safe. Because the second Tom realised what she’d done, she was finished.


	2. Chapter One

He’d noticed her as soon as he’d set foot outside his office.

It was her smile her smile that caught his eye, bright and happy, mouth open in laughter, as she conversed with the group of girls surrounding her at the bar. His bar.

Next he watched in fascination as the bartender poured a glass of champagne, and held it out to her. She held up a hand and shook her head, then lead forward and spoke to the man holding out the glass. He laughed, and nodded, handing the glass to her more than obliging friend, and set to work preparing a different drink entirely. Vodka, Grenadine and Lemonade, served in a tall glass, with ice and a slice of lime.

He walked across the private balcony outside his office, to where Brie Osman, the manager of his prime establishment stood, leant on the chrome safety bar, with her own glass of champagne in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. Tonight his employee wore a red, fitted dress which clung to every curve, and stopped mid-thigh. She’d teamed this with her trademark skyscraper black heels, and her whole outfit screamed ‘I’m in charge’. Which she was, to a degree.

Brie also had her eyes on the group of girls at the bar opposite, watching them with a keen interest. 

“Who is she?”

“Which one, Sir?”

“The woman at the bar who doesn’t like my champagne?”

“A friend of Jessica Simmonds, Sir. She’s the birthday girl, Jessica asked last week if she could bring her and some friends here to celebrate,” Thomas Hiddleston hummed his acknowledgment of the answer, as he surveyed the dancefloor below him. Then drew his eyes back up to the bar on the balcony opposite, “I thought, considering her loyal service to us, it wouldn’t hurt. I even threw in a bottle of the Taittinger.”

“Jessica is our bar supervisor, correct?”

“That’s correct, Sir.”

Thomas nodded, and brought a hand to the bar, curling his fingers around the cool metal as he watched the girls contemplatively for a little while long. The girl, the one who refused the champagne, she was a pretty thing. Wild, chin length curls, which looked dark but every now and then when the club lights hit her in the right way he could see some lighter shades, a sweet round face and a beautifully curvaceous body, tiny waist, wider hips and a noticeable bust. She was mouth-watering.

“She’s interesting. The friend.”

“She is. She wants a job, Sir. She’s a student, looking for some evening work. Jessica gave me her CV last week,” Brie explained, taking a toke of her cigarette, then reaching behind her and tapping the ash into an empty glass on the table, “I know how you feel about hiring. But we do need an extra body on Friday nights.”

“You have reservations?” 

“She’s a little bookish, don’t you think? The glasses, the dress…the shoes. She’s doesn’t fit, but she has experience,” Brie turned her nose up and Tom studied the girl again. He vaguely recognised the tall redhead she was with as their weekend bar supervisor, Jessica, who’d worked at the club for a couple of years now. The girl who’d caught his attention didn’t look much like her friends. She wore what could only be described as a faux vintage dress, which synched at her waist and flared out, finishing at her knees, whilst her friends wore short figure hugging numbers. He couldn’t see her shoes, but he could see her thick rimmed glasses and red lipstick. She certainly had an individual style.

“Tell me?”

“Claridge’s. Restaurant and bar for two years.”

“I see. Background?”

“Clean, Sir.”

“Invite her in,” Thomas said, decidedly.

“Sir?” Brie turned to face him, confusion and more than a little disgruntlement on her features. Her boss rarely involved himself in recruitment. As long as she could confirm her staff were clean and trustworthy. It’s unlikely he would ever meet any of the bar staff anyway. Only on the rare occasion that he was entertaining clients or less common, friends.

“Did I stutter, Osman?”

“No, Sir, it’s just…she’s not exactly suited –”

“We issue uniforms, and have a strict style code, do we not?”

“We do.”

“Well then. Invite her in, interview her. I want her working next Friday’s evening shift,” Thomas said with an air if finality.

“You’re the boss, Sir,” Brie responded, haughtily turning on her heel, stubbing her cigarette out in the glass, and marching towards the spiral staircase, to make her way downstairs into the bustle of the heaving dance floor.

Thomas turned his attention back to the group of girls by the bar, and watched for a moment longer. They laughed and chatted, Jessica grasped her friends hand, tugging her in the direction of the opposite staircase. The woman with the red lips, laughed and shook her head, declining the invitation to dance. But then the third friend joined in, and eventually she appeared to relent. She tipped her glass back into her mouth, emptying its contents with no more than three gulps, set it down on the bar, and followed her friends in the direction of the dance floor.

∞∞∞

It was a strange feeling, entering a nightclub during daytime hours. It looked bigger for starters, when it wasn’t heaving with cliental. Quiet, without the heavy thudding baseline, causing every surface to vibrate.

With the lights on, Alma would have assumed to see all manner of imperfections normally hidden by ambient lighting, and general disinterest during opening hours. But that wasn’t the case for The Emerald Lounge. Sitting in the booth by the deserted bar, waiting to be called, Alma realised this place was exquisite.

It was pristine in its appearance. Surfaces gleamed and the crystal chandeliers glimmered in the artificial lighting. Any sign of the previous night’s business had already been professionally cleaned and the only evidence of this was the now faint scent of bleach lingering in the air. But Alma knew she shouldn’t have been surprised, this was the most elite club in the city, and the types who frequented this establishment paid the price for such fine presentation on the door.

The call she’d received early Monday morning had taken her by complete surprise. A young woman inviting her for an interview, for a bar job. Jessica had only mentioned in passing that she could put in a good word for her, simply because her pay at the library was poor, and working weekday mornings was interfering with her study. An evening job would be ideal, and judging by Jessica’s lifestyle, The Emerald Lounge paid its employees well.

Alma had never worked in a nightclub before, but she had worked behind bars, and she had worked in other high end establishments. Honestly, she didn’t think this place would suit her, but she knew Jessica was trying to help, and it would have been rude to not even give it a chance. So she’d accepted the invitation, and that’s how she found herself the following day, mid-morning, waiting in the same nightclub where only a couple of nights before she’d been fortunate enough to celebrate her birthday, again at Jessica’s insistence.

“Miss. George?” Alma stood to the sound of her name, and saw a woman striding towards her on impossibly high black heels, “Apologies for keeping you waiting.”

“No problem,” Alma responded, politely and held out her hand, but the woman dismissed the gesture.

“I’m Brie Osman, manager of The Emerald Lounge, I’ll be conducting your interview today.”

“Oh…Jess said it would probably be Nick…” Alma trailed off, surprised. Jessica had told her about Ms. Osman, the manager. A fiery tempered woman who was not to be trifled with, she stood for no nonsense, and had extremely high expectations of her staff.

“Well, Miss. Simmonds was mistaken, please, follow me, did Clark, our doorman offer you a drink?”

“Yes, erm…Ms. Osman. Thank you.”

“Where is it?”

“Where’s what?”

“Your drink?”

“Oh… I declined, Thank you.”

“Are you sure?” Alma stopped in front of the bar, and watched in fascination as Brie Osman strutted behind the bar and lifted a champagne flute from the rack overhead, and then fetched an open bottle from the fridge and poured a glass. She looked at Alma expectantly, “Erm…maybe a water?”

“Really?” Brie shook her head and opened the fridge again, “Still or sparkling?”

“Sparkling, please,” Brie took a bottle of Perrier from the fridge and prepared a glass with ice and lemon, opened the bottle and poured it over the ice, then slid it across the bar to Alma, “Thank you.”

“Right, follow me.”

Alma was lead through a door at the end of the bar and then along long empty corridor, which turned at the end and opened into a wide hallway, with several doors coming off of it. She was invited into what had to be Brie’s office. A large room painted in a deep plum, with a glass desk, sparsely occupied with an Apple iMac and a single sheet of paper which Alma immediately recognised as her CV.

“Please sit,” Alma obediently perched on the edge of the chair facing the desk, and placed her drink down carefully on the glass surface. Ms. Osman mimicked her motions, only more confidently, as she set down her glass and relaxed back onto the plush leather office chair on her side of the desk.

“Alma George… twenty-six years old. A student of…Anthropology?” Brie Osman lifted the sheet of paper and pretended to read it, but she clearly already had every detail memorised.

“Post graduate…I’m currently completing my masters in Museum studies,” Alma corrected her, then immediately bit her lip, noticing the arched eyebrow from her interviewer.

“I see…Jessica says you are looking for evening work?”

“That’s right…erm, I work two mornings a week in Lewisham Library, but I have to rush from there to my lectures. Along with my current placement at the V&A it’s getting a bit much. I need my daytime hours. I think,” Alma explained.

“You worked at Claridge’s for two years, on the bar and restaurant, can I ask why you left that position?”

“At the end of my second year of Uni I wanted to travel for the summer. They couldn’t hold my job, I spent four weeks in Thailand, I came back and looked for something new. The position at the library came up, and it suited me.”

“Do you not feel suited to bar work?”

“I…” Alma paused, realising that this woman was trying to catch her out, “I’m an adaptable person, I’ve spent my life travelling, and fitting into new communities. I can suit most jobs, I like people, I like meeting different types of people.”

“I see,” Ms. Osman’s eyes dropped back to Alma’s CV, her eyes scanned it for a few seconds longer, Alma wasn’t sure if she was really reading it, or just thinking up her next question, “You celebrated your birthday with us on Saturday gone. Tell me, what did you make of The Emerald Lounge?”

“It’s… as a student, I’m sure you can imagine I don’t frequent clubs like yours, I’m well aware of the…class of clientele you have. Saturday was a wonderful treat, and I’m very grateful to you for permitting Jess to bring me here to celebrate my birthday.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Miss. George,” Brie Osman finally lifted her eyes from the paper and looked at Alma dead on, “I asked what _you_ thought of my club?”

_Lie. _Alma wanted to listen to the little voice in her head, but she couldn’t. She wasn’t a liar, “I’m not that much into clubbing, it’s a beautiful place, your decor is tasteful, your staff are polite and helpful, and I liked the music. But I’m more of a pint of cider down the pub kind of girl and singing bad Karaoke at Lucky Voice.”

“Yet, you want to work here?”

“I’m not about to sit here and lie to you, Ms. Osman. I do need a job which fits in with my studies. But I didn’t know Jess had given you my CV, she only mentioned in passing that she could put a word in. What I can tell you is that I know how to work a bar, I know how to look after high class clientele. I’m a hard worker, I’m reliable, and I’m a fast learner,” she knew she was likely ruining her chances of being offered a job, and it did occur to her that her behavior could reflect badly on Jessica for recommending her. But she came here for an interview, not an interrogation. Alma was not the sort of woman who let people who thought they were better than her, talk down to her. No, The Emerald Lounge was not her ideal night out, not that she hadn’t enjoyed it, it was a treat. She didn’t frequently dine in Michelin Star restaurants either, but she'd worked in one.

“We have a uniform, I’m sure you’re aware. And a dress code I expect all my employees to adhere to. Our starting rate is £12. 90 an hour, does that sound reasonable?”

“Very,” Alma almost choked. That was well above national minimum wage.

“Do you have any questions, Miss. George?”

“No...no I don’t think so,” Alma frowned, was this interview turned interrogation over already? It had barely been ten minutes.

“Well then, I'll be in touch. I’ll let you know by tomorrow lunch time,” Ms. Osman stood up and held her hand out gesturing to the office door, “I'll show you out.”


	3. Chapter Two

Tom had been expecting her approach him for a while now. He’d been subtly watching her whilst he pretended to peruse the ‘G’ shelves of the Fiction section of Lewisham Library.

Alma George was a hard worker, that much Tom Hiddleston had worked out. Never stopping, as she greeted visitors and helped people find what they were looking for, all the while finding time to return books to their rightful shelves, and check books in and out. He knew she’d noticed him soon after his arrival, he’d caught her every now and then look in his direction with a creased brow.

“Excuse me, sir?” finally she approached him, confident in her step, she’d set down a pile of books on the returns trolley and walked right up to him, “Is there something in particular you’re looking for?”

“I’m not sure,” for a second he pretended to continue browsing the shelf in front of him. Then he turned to her and grinned, “What do you recommend?”

“Me?” the young woman looked surprised by his question.

“Well, you must read a lot of books, and I think I’d like to try something new,” Tom’s brow quirked, and he didn’t expect the slight chuckle that escaped her lips.

“Right…erm. Well… what do you normally like to read? Is there a particular genre you prefer?” she asked, not looking away from the intense stare he was giving her. She didn’t even seem affected by it, which made a delightful change. He was used to giving off an air designed to intimidate, it was why he was so good at getting his own way. 

“I’ll be completely honest, I don’t read nearly as much as I’d like. But I used to very much enjoy reading the Bonds, erm… Ian Flemming… also ah…John Le Carre?” one thing Tom could do was think on his feet, but he couldn’t honestly remember the last time he’d picked up a book and read it from start to finish. But with Alma apparently immune to his imposing nature, he needed a smart answer fast.

“Spies and espionage, the thrill of the chase,” she nodded knowingly, “Well, I suppose if you’d like to try something different you could go down the crime and detective route. I recommend Peter James, his DS Roy Grace series is brilliant, here…” she trailed off and headed over to the ‘J’s’ and plucked out and book, “Dead Simple in the first in the series…or erm… oh! Tess Gerritsen, it’s a completely different type of exciting, but she writes medical thrillers. She’s one of my favourites,” she moved across to another shelf and pulled a novel entitled ‘Gravity’ and handed it to him.

“And you’ve read both of these?” he asked, placing one book on top of the other and holding them in both hands.

“Well yeah, I’d never recommend something I hadn’t read,” she said, as if that much was obvious.

“Well, I’ll put my trust in your more knowledgeable hands, and try these,” he told her.

“Great, glad I could help,” she moved to head back to the check in desk, and only turned back when she realised he was following her, “Erm, was there something else?”

“Well…I’d like to borrow these?” he gestured to the books.

“Oh, sure… I can do that for you, or we have some computers, you just scan your library card, then the book, and it’ll tell you when it’s due back,” she explained, pointing over to computer type machines against the far wall.

“Ah…” Tom trailed off, “In that case, I do require further assistance from you, I’m afraid. I need to join your library.”

Alma’s smile widened, then she chuckled and shook her head, “You’d better follow me then, Sir. We’ll get you signed up.”

To Alma, he didn’t look particularly out of place, this strange man who had been loitering in the fiction section, seemingly waiting for her to approach and offer her help. He dressed casually, in some straight leg faded black jeans, and a dark blue button up shirt rolled up to his elbows. On his face he wore glasses, which balanced on his patrician nose, but did nothing to disguise those strikingly blue eyes.

He looked a little geeky maybe, but it would be remiss to deny his lovely features, Alma had noticed the second she was close enough. Tall, handsome, and apparently a bit of a cheeky, judging by the way he’d pretended that he hadn’t just been waiting for her to come over to him, and that insistent playful smirk which remained on his lips as he followed her to the desk, and set down the books he intended to borrow.

His behaviour however, was peculiar. Not so much the almost flirty way in which he addressed her. But his insistence to hang around in a library he was not a member off, and although he seemed to know his books, the way he spoke suggested he’d never set foot in a library in his life. She didn’t miss the way he studied the worn edges of the book curiously, like it was some foreign object.

“So, I’ll get you registered, you’ll just need to fill in this form,” she handed a poorly photocopied application form, asking basic details, and took and pen from a mug on her side of the desk and held it out to him, “Don’t forget to give the pen back, they’re like gold dust around here.”

He smirked, and nodded, but didn’t make a move to fill in the form, “How long can I keep the books?”

“Oh, three weeks, if you want them longer you can renew the loan, actually you can sign up and do that online. If you don’t you get a fine, it’s 20p a day. I know that sounds like nothing, but I got fined £8 once and I figure I could have brought the book for that, so…” she trailed off and shrugged, “What’s your name? I’ll do your card.”

“It’s Tom, what’s yours?”

She looked up from where she was now rummaging in the desk drawer for a new library card, to see the man, Tom apparently leaning on the desk with both hands, eyes fixed on her intently.

“It’s Alma,” she pointed to her name badge, then continued, “Do you have a last name? Actually, do you have any ID? Driving licence is fine, I’ll need to see that, and proof of address…which is usually on a driving licence.”

“Sure,” Tom stood up straight and delved into his jeans pocket, he pulled out a thick leather wallet which Alma couldn’t help but notice looked almost brand new, unlike most men’s wallets which always seemed to be falling apart. She could see the back of the wallet was stuffed with bank notes, and looked away quickly, it didn’t feel right looking at all the money this man was carrying on his person. He pulled out a pink card and handed it to her.

Taking it from him, she brought it into her eyeline and scanned the details quickly. Her eyes widening as she did, and when she looked back at Tom, he was wearing a wide smile. She held the card back to him.

“Mr. Hiddleston…this isn’t your local library,” she started, “In fact, it’s quite out of your way.”

“You know who I am?” he tried to sound more surprised than he actually was. Most people knew who he was, at least indirectly.

“Of course, you own the Servaes Hotel chain…amongst other things. Your presence in the business world is rather…prevalent,” Alma shifted in her chair, now uncomfortable under the heat of his curious gaze.

“Amongst others things.”

“You don’t look like your photos…I mean, well…I guess I’ve only ever seen you in the papers, and on the news, you’re always wearing very nice suits, and no glasses,” he chuckled at her assessment.

“Isn’t a man allowed a day off?”

“Well yeah, of course.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about me, Miss. George.”

“Not really, but I read a lot of…wait how do you know my last name?” Alma peered down at her name badge, to double check, but no, it definitely just said ‘Alma’.

“You turned down my offer of employment at The Emerald lounge,” Tom stated, as he finally tucked his driving license away, and put his wallet back into his pocket. Alma’s lips parted in surprise, “Can you tell me why that was?”

“Your offer?”

“Well I own The Emerald Lounge…but of course you knew that already, didn’t you? If you haven’t read it somewhere, I’m sure your friend Jessica has made a point of telling you?”

“Jess said she’s only seen you once,” Alma quickly responded, “I mean…yes…yes I know you own the club. I just… I presumed it was Ms. Osman who made the offer.”

“At my instruction.”

“Oh…well erm, thank you...for your kind offer. But as I explained on the phone. I don’t think the position is for me,” Alma told him as sincerely as she could manage.

“I beg to differ. When I saw you…last Saturday actually. Celebrating your birthday in my upstairs bar, I thought you suited the décor perfectly.”

“You don’t do this very often, do you?” Alma arched one brow and gave Tom a hard look, although it was a struggle to keep a straight face, when she noticed his confident façade falter at her accusation.

“Do what?”

“Chat up girls… I’ll give you a tip, trying to make them work for you, then stalking them at their current job, isn’t the best way about it. It doesn’t make you seem romantic, it’s more creepy and borderline obsessive,” Alma explained, and earned herself a soft chuckle from his lips which admittedly sent an not entirely unpleasant shiver through her core.

“Tell me…truthfully,” Tom started, dismissing her comment, “Why did you turn down my offer? You wanted evening work. I know for a fact my hourly rate is much better than what you’re earning here. Not to mention the employee benefits, discounts at my hotels, free gym membership. You’d get to work with your best friend.”

“Jess isn’t my best friend,” Alma shook her head, “You want to know, honestly?”

“Please.”

“Brie Osman…your manager. I couldn’t stand her, I don’t think I could bare to work for such a stuck up, judgemental, high and mighty, sour faced bitch. To put it nicely.”

“That’s nicely?”

“Oh, there’s a lot more I could say.”

“Please, don’t sugar coat it,” Tom grinned, his eyes alight with amusement, “Go on.”

“I won’t, seeing as she’s your employee, but something to bear in mind when you do her annual review. Her interview technique was more like an interrogation, I was half expecting her to chain me up and waterboard me.”

Tom barked out a laugh at that assessment, “Anything else I should know?”

“Does she always drink so early in the day?”

“Her blood is fifty percent Bollinger.”

“That explains a lot,” Alma found herself unable to stop smiling at this man who right now should be creeping her the hell out. She knew she should be alerting her manager and asking him to leave. But despite his pretty unnerving approach, she didn’t feel threatened by him. In fact, she was rather entertained.

“So, if you’re absolutely certain you won’t accept an offer of employment from me. How about an invitation to dinner?” his voice dropped an octave, and Alma doubled her efforts to appear unaffected. It’s not every day you had, quite possibly the richest man in England walk into your place of work and ask you to dinner.

“You seem very sure of yourself.”

“Because I am.”

“Over confidence is not always an attractive trait, Tom,” his brow quirked when she used his given name, and she wondered if he was used to being addressed as Mr. Hiddleston, or Sir, by those who weren’t close personal acquaintances.

“Yet, your cheeks are pink, and you’ve fidgeted in that chair non-stop since I’ve started talking to you. I’d wager you find my over-confidence, amongst other, more physical aspects of my appearance very attractive. Which is good, because it means we’re on the same page… Alma.”

Alma’s lip parted, and she paused, gathering her wits for a second, because she wasn’t at all ready for that. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and then she responded, “Nowhere fancy, it won’t impress me. Also weekday evenings are difficult, because I always have work, early lectures or placement.”

“So, you’d be free Saturday night?”

“I could possibly make myself free.”

“I think you should. I can assure you, you won’t regret it,” Tom assured her, his voice getting huskier by the second. But just as she was about to reply she noticed another customer approaching the desk. She stood up quickly.

“Can I help you?” without hesitation, Tom stepped to one side and allowed her to continue with her job. It was seconds later she noticed, as she was about to lead the woman to the public computers to show her how to log in, that Tom was folding a piece of paper and sliding it into the front cover of one of the books she’d helped him find. She frowned back at him, and in response he gave a nod of his head, a smile, and a flirty wink, then he sauntered towards the exit, leaving the books on the desk.

With the customer set up and settled on the public computers, Alma hurried back to the desk and snatched up the copy of Tess Gerritson’s ‘Gravity’ and opening the front cover, where a yellow post-it was neatly folded and tucked inside.

Unfurling the paper, Alma squinted at the untidy scrawl which met her eyes.

_‘Saturday, 7pm. I’ll pick you up – Tom’_


	4. Chapter Three

“You’re actually kidding right? The Thomas Hiddleston…like… richest, most revered man in England…Europe…possibly the world –”

“Not the world,” Alma snorted, as she touched up her mascara in the mirror.

“And the country’s most eligible bachelor,” Jess continued, and Alma realised this was exactly why she’d not mentioned until the last possible moment who she’d cancelled on her friend for.

Truthfully, Jessica hadn’t been that annoyed, they lived together and it’s not like they didn’t see each other most days anyway. It just wasn’t often that her friend got a Saturday night off work, but due to a colleague swapping shifts, she’d managed to get two in a row.

“I’m not joking. But really it’s not that big a deal,” Alma tried to shrug it off, though she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Because it was a big deal, she knew that. It was a fucking massive deal. Though up until that afternoon she was wondering if she’d imagined the whole encounter at the library days earlier. Alma was of a very laid back nature, she took everything in her stride, and that attitude to life had never steered her wrong in the past. So after Tom had left her that note, slipped in the front cover of her favourite Tess Gerritsen novel, she’d taken it with a pinch of salt. It occurred to her immediately, he’d not taken her number or her address, so the likeliness of him actually picking her up at seven as promised was slim.

So she’d not mentioned the meeting with who was technically Jessica’s bosses boss, to Jess or any of her other friends, because she didn’t think anything would come of it. Then early Saturday afternoon her phone chimed on her desk and alerted her of a text from an unknown number.

**>>> I know I offered dinner, but I’d like to take you somewhere first, so have a snack before you leave, we’ll be eating late. Nowhere fancy, as agreed.**

Alma frowned at the message. Then seconds later another followed.

**>>> Oh and dress comfortably, no heels. See you at 7. Tom ** **😉**

Well, he’d not come across at the type to use winky face emoji’s in texts, but appearances can be deceiving, Alma smirked to herself, and typed a reply.

**Are you taking me hiking? I know I said no where fancy…<<<**

Alma chuckled, then shot a follow up text to Jess who was out shopping, that she’d have to cancel their evening plans, because she had a date. A date she really couldn’t miss. Of course, Jess had returned home demanding to know what guy could possibly be so important that it would cause her to cancel their plans of Gin Martini’s and Mean Girls.

**>>> No hiking. I promise. Tom**

“So is that what you’re wearing?” Jess eyed her housemate in disbelief as Alma added the finishing touches to her lipstick. She wore some high-waisted jeans, teamed a black and white polka dot blouse and on her feet her favourite pair of boots, black lace up ones with a low heel.

“I’ve been told to dress comfortably,” Alma shot back.

“Maybe so, but this is Tom Fucking Hiddleston, he’s a billionaire, you can’t wear jeans.”

Then the doorbell rang.

“Well it’s too late to change now,” Alma said as she made for their front door, then turned with a flourish, and flung it open.

“It’s a little out of the city,” Tom had explained once he’d settled Alma into the back seat of the town car, gotten comfortable next to her, and instructed his driver to be on his way, “You look lovely, by the way.”

“Thank you, you look…again, surprisingly casual,” Alma had responded, noting that Tom had dressed down also, in a pair of black jeans, possibly the same ones he’d been wearing when she saw him earlier that week, and a white V-neck t-shirt. On top he wore a navy hoodie, unzipped. He’d also opted not to wear his glasses, similarly Alma had forgone her own for contact lenses, like she sometimes did on special occasions. A date seemed like a special enough occasion.

“As much as I appreciate a well-made suit, if I have an opportunity not to wear one, I’ll take it. You don’t seem the type to be impressed by men’s tailoring,” Tom commented.

“You’d be surprised. I don’t know any women who don’t appreciate a man in a suit,” she smiled warmly, “So where are you taking me?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Goody,” Alma rolled her eyes, “How did you get my address…and my phone number?”

“Your CV. I’m not that much of a stalker.”

“Of course,” she’d forgotten about that, “Though I don’t think I believe you, about the stalking thing. I think you probably know much more about me than what I wrote in my CV.”

Tom simply grinned at her and shook his head in amusement.

They chatted idly, Tom asked her about her studies, and she told him with enthusiasm about her current placement at the V&A museum, and her hopes for when she completed her masters. She only had a few short months of her studies remaining. She’d not been paying much attention to where they were heading, that was a mistake in hindsight. But when they came to a roundabout, a familiar sign over an entrance caught Alma’s attention, she fell silent.

The car took the exit at the roundabout and drove under the signage to Thorpe Park Resort, the souths largest amusement park, and home to some of the biggest and fasted rides in the country. Tom kept his eyes fixed on Alma as they drove through the carpark, and right to the main entrance of the park and pulled to a stop. He was gauging her reaction.

Alma stared out the window for a second, then turned to Tom, “You realise they close to the general public at six?”

“We are not the general public though,” Tom shot her a playful grin then let himself out of the car and walked around to the passenger side and opened her door, then once he’d closed the door behind her he held out his hand, “Come with me.”

Alma accepted his hand and let him lead him lead her towards the ticket booths where she noticed a young man, in a polo shirt adorned with the park logo was waiting.

“Mr Hiddleston, Sir,” he held out his hand as they approached, and Tom accepted his gesture in a firm handshake.

“Good Evening, James isn’t it?” the young man nodded.

“It is, Sir. Welcome to Thorpe Park resort. As arranged, the park is yours for the next two hours, all the major rides are in operation, and I can arrange you any refreshments from the main bar, have you visited before?”

“I have,” Alma jumped in, a little too eagerly, “My friends and I visit every year…sometimes twice.”

“So you know your way around?” James asked.

“Yep,” she nodded, and Tom chuckled.

“Well, in that case if you’re happy to do so, I’ll leave you to make your way around the park, meet back in the dome at ten o’clock so I can show you out. Enjoy,” James held out his arm, showing them through the gates.

As they walked across the bridge into the park, still hand in hand, Alma turned to Tom, who was looking a little bit too smug, “This is mad, Tom, we have the whole park to ourselves?” he nodded, “I said nothing fancy, I can’t begin to imagine what this arrangement had cost you.”

“One of the head honchos at Merlin owed me a favour,” he shrugged, “Besides, you said fancy restaurants don’t impress you and I was a bit stumped. However…after a little look on your social media, it became apparent you are somewhat of an adrenaline junkie?”

“I knew it. Stalker,” Alma accused, jovially.

“Guilty as charged,” Tom held up his free hand, the other still clutching hers, to both of their surprise, “I must ask what possessed you to go bungee jumping?”

“I got an opportunity when I visited Australia, it seemed like a once in a lifetime thing. I’d rather live to regret doing something, than regret not doing it,” she explained, then looked around where they were now standing on the other side of the dome, “What ride are we doing first?”

“You’re the expert, Alma.”

“Is this your first time?” she asked him, in disbelief.

“I’m afraid so.”

“Oh, we are so starting with Saw!” with that, she tightened her grip on his hand, and tugged him in the direction of her favourite ride. Tom could only laugh as his widened his stride to keep up with her.

As the over the shoulder restraints came down and clicked into place, Tom’s hands flew to the metal handles, and his knuckles turned white with the strength of his grip. He found himself closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He’d not thought so much about this part, the part where he actually had to go on the rides.

“Tom?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?” Alma asked, and he nodded, suddenly unable to speak.

“Are…are you scared?” she asked, her voice incredulous.

“I…I’ve never actually been on one of these things,” Tom finally admitted.

“Seriously? So when you said this is your first time…you meant like…not just here, but…on a coaster, full stop?” Alma realised.

“I went on a run away train ride when I was a child…it wasn’t this big.”

“Hey, look at me,” Tom turned his head, and looked round where Alma was in the seat next to him, she reached her hand out, and he let go of the handle bar and let her grasp his clammy hand giving it a quick squeeze, “It’s worse with your eyes closed, try and keep them open.”

“Alright,” he nodded and when she let go of his hand, he immediately gripped the bars again, and the ride jolted forward on the rails and began its ascent.

“That…was fucking amazing,” Tom enthused, almost two hours later, as they walked hand in hand back across the bridge, having declined James’ offer of a drink in the bar. Tom had explained that he had further plans for their evening, and it was already almost ten o’clock, but assured the man he’d be back for another visit.

He took most new experiences in his stride, and the fact that he’d never actually been to a theme park himself was of no concern to him when he’d thought to cash in on favour owed to him. It wasn’t until he was faced with the rides that he’d felt any apprehension. There wasn’t much he was scared of, but he wasn’t wonderful with heights and although he did it often, he wasn’t the best with air travel either. So being faced with a sixty metre high steel frame rollercoaster had been quite alarming and he’d tried and failed to hide his apprehension from Alma.

He’d enjoyed it though, it had been exhilarating. Although admittedly his knees had been wobbly when he excited the first ride, and he’d felt a little light headed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never been before. You’re a total convert,” Alma responded, unable to wipe the grin off her face.

“I admit, I did think I was going to throw up when Stealth took off,” Tom chuckled, as they approached the waiting car, and Alma wondered if it had been there the whole time, or if Tom had sent a discrete message to his driver, “You had fun then?”

“Tom…this is like…the most amazing date I’ve ever had!” she gushed, as he held the car door open for her, and let her climb in.

“Well…” he continued, once he was seated next to her, and the driver pulled away, “I know it’s late, but if you’d still like something to eat I have some ideas.”

“You know, I’m famished, actually,” like Alma, Tom couldn’t stop smiling, or looking at the woman next to him. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were rosy, and he couldn’t believe she was still holding onto his hand.

“Well, there’s a lovely little Italian place in Richmond. We could take the city roads back?”

“Will it be open?”

“I already put it past the owner, it’ll be open,” he promised.

“You know…I’ve got a better idea,” Alma began, “Not that Italian doesn’t sound lovely, and this evening has been so much fun, but it’s also been kind of…fast paced and we’ve not really had chance to talk. If you you’re up for, we could just grab a pizza and head back to mine, and hang out? Jess goes to bed early when she’s not working, so we’ll basically have the place to ourselves.”

She continued to surprise him. He’d never taken a women out before who’d not expected the very best from him. Michelin star restaurants and nights at the opera, he’d even chartered jets to Paris and Rome in order to please a woman. But this woman, who for some reason, had captured his attention more than any other in recent years wanted none of that. She just wanted him, without the fanfare.

Tom thought back to the last time he’d done something as normal as hang out at home with a take away. He wasn’t sure he could remember, perhaps when he was a student, and that was over ten years ago, and even then, not with a girl he liked. He’d already conquered a major first that evening, why stop there?

“You know, that sounds really good,” Tom grinned back at her, “And as a compromise, I’ll call Lorenzo now and see if he’ll do us something to go. We can pick it up on the way through.”

“Perfect,” Alma beamed.

It didn’t occur to Alma until the second she was pushing open the front door to her darkened house, Tom trailing close behind her, pizza boxes balanced on one hand and a chilled bottle of wine clutched in the other, that her date was probably used to homes much more splendid than her little two bedroom terrace in South East London.

But Tom didn’t seem to mind, as he toed off his shoes in the hall and asked where he should put the food.

“Ah…” Alma peered into her darkened living room, spotting the coffee table scattered with her current university assignment. She didn’t really want to move it now, she knew exactly where everything was, “We can sit in the kitchen, or just take them up to my room and hang out there. It’s probably the tidiest place in the house right now. Sorry I didn’t plan on having a house guest.”

“Whatever’s best for you,” Tom simply smiled and waited to be shown through the small house.

“Lets go in the kitchen,” Alma lead him down the hall to the back of the house and turned on the light. Her eyes immediately landed on the huge pile of washing up by the sink and the remnants of Jess’s dinner stuff. Atop the kitchen table was a pile of clean and dry, but unfolded laundry. Alma rolled her eyes, “I’m so sorry about this. My housemate is a lazy bitch who’s incapable of completing any job. I’ll grab some wine glasses and we’ll head up to my room.”

Tom didn’t mind. On the contrary he was fascinated by her, by her life. It was so very different to his own. It was almost refreshing to see how normal people lived, people who didn’t have a paid laundry service and a daily house keeper.

Alma found two glasses and quickly washed them at the sink and dried them off and then lead him back down the hall and upstairs, “We’re not blessed with space I’m afraid, but it’s fine for me and Jess,” she noted as she hit the upstairs landing that Jess’ bedroom door was wide open but the light was off, “Looks like she’s out, must have made some last minute plans… this is my room.”

Alma had the bigger bedroom, the master Tom supposed, although it was maybe quarter of the size of his own master bedroom, and there was no ensuite bathroom. Alma’s bedroom, unlike the rest of the house was immaculate. A big bed was in the centre of the room, built in wardrobes and a dresser on the opposite wall. The wardrobe doors were adorned with photos. Whilst he looked around, Alma took the pizza box from his hands and plonked it on the end of her bed, having set the wine glasses down on her bedside table.

“It’s a great little house,” Tom complimented as he walked over to the cupboard and studied the photos a bit closer, “And you’re lucky, in this climate, to own your own place. Especially being a student.”

“I know, I am lucky and it suits its purpose…wait…” Alma stopped by her bed where she was about to sit down, and squinted at Tom, “How do you know I own this place?”

Tom turned and made his way back to the bed, not balking at being called out on his knowledge of something she’d never once mentioned to him. He perched on the end and reached for the pizza box, opening it up, and gesturing to Alma to take a slice, “Help yourself, love. I’ll pour the wine.”

“Woah, no way. I’m not letting you distract me with food and alcohol. You might be all fancy and rich and handsome, and you may have just taken me out on the most awesome date ever. But you’re still a man that I hardly know, and I’ve let you in my house, into my bedroom no less. If you want to keep my trust, you’ll answer my question, because I didn’t tell you I owned this house. So how did you know that?” Alma placed her hands on her hips and refused to sit down. Her tone told Tom, under no uncertain terms, if he didn’t talk, then she’d definitely be asking him to leave.

But he smirked, not because he was amused by her outburst, but more because he was impressed by her tenacity.

“I admit, I did a little background check on you,” Tom confessed, and Alma’s eyes widened.

“You what? Are you fucking serious? I was joking about the stalker thing but –”

“Please, allow me to explain, Alma,” Tom stood quickly, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “Please, I had no intention of scaring you, quite the opposite. I have to be careful who I associate with, Alma.”

“What do you mean?” she frowned, putting her hands behind her back and not letting him touch her.

“Do you know my net worth?” she shook her head, “Well it’s somewhere in the region of sixty five million, as of the beginning of this financial year and unfortunately I learnt very early on in my career that when it comes to dating, many women don’t see me, they see the pound signs floating before them. Not only that but a lot of my career rides on my reputation. It would be remiss of me, when I’m considering embarking on a new relationship, not to make sure they have no skeletons hiding in their closets.”

“If that’s the case, I’m surprised you even asked me out at all. Because I’m certain the background check you did on me would have told you exactly how very boring, uninteresting and unspecial I am,” Alma shot back, without thought.

“I don’t think ‘unspecial’ is a real word. But I can assure you, I found quite the opposite. I knew the first time I saw you, you were something very special, but everything I found out about you just cemented that fact. I’ve never met anyone like you, Alma.”

Her frown softened and a smile played on her lips, “You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met, Tom. You realise you can explain your actions anyway you like, but none of this is normal.”

He nodded, “I’ve never been great at normal.”

“No…I can imagine,” she smirked and stepped closer, rapidly letting her guard down again, “Just so you know, I don’t give second chances, keep something like that from me again and you’re gone. You want to know something about me, ask, I’ll tell you.”

“I understand,” Tom nodded once, and as she stepped up to him, his hands naturally found her waist.

“You’re a fucking charmer, Thomas Hiddleston,” Alma stated, but before he could respond, she’d tiptoed up and pressed her mouth against his, silencing him completely.

Right there, standing in her bedroom, in her tiny scruffy, two bed house, with her soft lips working against his, Tom realised this woman was trouble. In a few short hours she’d succeeded in shutting him down, putting him in his place, and weakening every single wall he had up around him.

He was well and truly fucked.


	5. Chapter Four

“Fuck me.”

The words flew from Alma’s lips none too quietly as she stepped out of the sleek black Jaguar which had picked her up from the museum at the end of her placement, and driven her north west of the city centre.

She now stood on a cream stone driveway, in front of a humungous detached townhouse, separated from the public footpath from a highly secure electric gate, on a busy through road in St John’s Wood. This was where Tom lived.

“May I take your bag, Miss. George?” Jenson, the driver, Tom’s driver she supposed, asked her. At least, Jenson was the one who drove them on their dates, and on several occasions had turned up at her house to take her to her lectures in the mornings. He didn’t talk much, save for the occasional ‘Good morning’, ‘Good Evening’ and ‘Can I take your bag?’. But he seemed nice, he always opened the door for her when she was without Tom, and he had kind eyes.

“I can manage,” Alma assured him, slinging her bag over her shoulder, still unable to tear her eyes from the property in front of her. Until now, Alma hadn’t pushed Tom about seeing where he lived, in fact, she’d not really pushed him this time. She’d made a comment about how they always hung out at hers, and Jess felt like she was walking on eggshells, following a particularly embarrassing event the morning after their first date.

They’d not intended to fall asleep. Tom ending up staying had been completely unplanned, so much so that when Alma came to the following morning she was surprised to see him opposite her on her bed, still sleeping soundly.

Both of them were lying atop of the duvet, still dressed in their clothes from the evening before. They’d not slept together, they hadn’t even come close.

Following the brief kiss, they’d gotten comfortable. Tom had poured the wine and they’d devoured the pizza between them, and Alma had finally gotten her own way because Tom finally relaxed and started talking, dropping his businessman type armour and actually coming down to earth.

Stepping into the kitchen a little while later, having been drawn down by the smell of coffee and bacon, Jess always cooked bacon on Sunday mornings, Alma found her flatmate at the sink, working her way through the pile of washing up.

She also noted that the laundry which had been piled on the table the night before had now been, albeit hastily, folded into a basket, ready to be taken upstairs.

“Where were you last night?” Alma had asked, making her way across the kitchen and grabbing the kettle to fill it up, “I thought you were having a chilled evening. Dirty stop out.”

“I fucking wish I was a dirty stop out,” Jess had huffed, when she turned to her, Alma noted the remnants of makeup only just hiding the dark circles beneath her friends eyes.

“You look fucking awful, have you even slept?”

“Nope, I got in about two hours ago. Fucking work,” she moved aside so Alma could fill the kettle, “Fucking Bitch Osman called me at nine thirty, I was just getting into bed. They were short, needed cover. Practically fucking threatened me with my job if I didn’t come in.”

“Oh…” Alma trailed off, biting her lip, and trying not to appear too on edge, as she as subtly as possible peered into the hall outside the kitchen.

“She’s a fucking a cunt. I was this close to just telling her to fucking do one,” Jess brought her hand into Alma’s eyeline and held her thumb and forefinger a centimetre apart, “I swear, if they didn’t pay so well, I wouldn’t fucking hesitate to dropkick her next time she fucking lays into me about a chip my bloody nail polish. Sorry love, not all of us spend our days bossing people around and drinking their profits. I don’t have time to get a manicure every week.”

When a series of slow claps came from the kitchen doorway, Jess had nearly jumped out her skin. Spinning around to find no other than the owner of her place of work, leaning against the door jam, looking highly amused.

Ever since then, Jess hid out in her room whenever Tom showed up, too mortified by how badly she’d put her foot in it, and still unable to comprehend how laid back Alma was about the fact that we was, as Jess put it “dating a bazillionaire” who was “basically famous”.

But to Alma he was just Tom. He was a bit unusual, and obviously used to having the best of everything and getting exactly what he wanted. But he also knew that she wasn’t impressed by his wealth, he’d picked up pretty quickly that she wasn’t interested in Michelin star restaurants, or shiny gifts. Alma often wondered if part of her appeal was how hard Tom found himself working to impress her, because impressing a girl with his personality alone seemed quite novel to him.

After Alma’s comment about always being at hers, Tom had instantly suggested an evening at his place and she’d been quick to accept his invitation. Dating Tom Hiddleston although never dull, hadn’t come without its difficulties. For starters, he worked a lot, and he worked weird hours. On more than one occasion he’d had to take calls whilst they were out, and once he’d even cut a date short and had Jenson drive her home. But also, he was a closed book, and other than telling her about his Mother and sisters, he rarely spoke about his private life, regardless of how close they’d grown. Alma liked to think she was getting to know the man she was dating better than most, but really she only knew what he was willing to share and being invited into his home felt like a big step forward for them.

Bigger still, despite them having been seeing one another almost two months, he’d only slept at her house the once, and they were yet to do anything much more than kiss…alright they’d got a bit handsy on one or two occasions, but that was it. But when Tom had asked her over to his, he’d also suggested she bring an overnight bag. If she wanted to. She definitely wanted to.

Jenson shut the car door and escorted Alma up the stone steps, leading to the magnificent entrance. At the top there was a set of double black doors, which were central to the building, with windows either side and two more levels of windows above. There were a lower level of windows too, and a smaller door to the side of the entrance steps, a basement level, maybe?

Jensen rang the bell and stepped to the side, and Alma shifted foot to foot awkwardly, she knew he was only doing his job, but she wasn’t sure it was nessisary for him to stay? They waited, and waited.

“He is in, right?” Alma asked, trying to sound light hearted and jokey, but given how caught up she knew Tom got with work it wouldn’t have surprised her. Though his own car sat on the driveway next to the Jaguar which Jensen had picked her up in.

“Yes, Miss. George,” Jensen responded, “Mr. Hiddleston has been working from his home office today.”

Just then the door swung open and Tom was there in front of her, grinning widely.

“Alma, love, come in,” he seemed not to immediately notice his driver, not until Alma tipped her head sideways before stepping through the threshold into Tom’s home, “Ah, Jensen, thank you for escorting Miss. George.”

“Of course, sir,” The driver nodded, then cleared his throat and looked at Tom pointedly, “Sir, if you don’t mind, a word?” he side glanced Alma, “Confidentially.”

Unwaveringly, Tom gave a short not and edged towards Alma touching her lower back gently and ushering her into the house, “I won't be a moment love, go through... Jensen, if you’d like to follow me through to my office?”

“Where do I go?” Alma glanced around the expanse of the entryway, telling her to go through was a big vague, she was likely to get lost. Either side there were wide open doorways to what looked like a vast and immaculate sitting room to the left, opposite a room occupied by only a long table set up as if expecting twelve guests for a fancy dinner party. Straight ahead one staircase going up, one going down and some further closed doors.

“Down those stairs and straight ahead, make yourself at home,” Tom smiled sweetly, and leant in to peck her cheek, “I won't be a moment, promise.”

Alma rolled her eyes and chuckled, “Sure, make myself at home,” before setting off downstairs as directed. Above her she listened out curiously as the front door shut and the footsteps of Tom and Jensen could be heard in the hall above.

She wondered what on earth could he so important that Jensen, who was usually a man of few words, would need to impose upon their evening? Though she'd learnt quickly not to ask questions about matters of business with Tom. He had his fingers in so many pies, she wondered how he kept up with it all and although she knew work was never far from his mind he liked to keep up the pretence that when he wasn't working he wanted to forget about it entirely. The only time she'd asked him about his business he'd given her a hard look and asked “Do we have to talk about work?” and left it at that.

All Alma knew was that Tom worked hard and he made a lot of money. He wore nice suits, like the one he'd been wearing when he answered the door, a charcoal grey two piece with a crisp white shirt and no tie, and that within his industry he was revered and respected.

She didn’t dwell on Jensen's interruption long because when she hit the bottom of the stairs she felt the air leave her lungs. She had to stop in front of the immense open plan living space to get her bearings and take it in. This was clearly where Tom “lived" most of the time. It wasn’t as immaculate as the first level of the house. But it was stunning nonetheless. A kitchen and dining area was in front of her, with glass panel doors taking up the entire back wall of the house showing her out onto a immaculately landscaped garden with a lush green lawn and at the far end she could make out a patio with furniture. Tall trees and hedges lined the sides to ensure privacy and that none of the neighbours were overlooking. She didn't know gardens like this existed in London.

Inside was just as spectacular. She started exploring slowly, dropping her bag at the foot of the stairs and slipping off her flat work shoes. Tucked to the left of the stairs was what she could only describe as a “family room". Comfortable worn looking sofas, a huge flat screen mounted to the wall, and a coffee table. Atop the table there was a tumbler with a drop of amber liquid in the bottom and an open box of Jaffa Cakes. She smirked to herself, Tom did have quite the sweet tooth. It was warm and cosy in this little tucked away area in comparison to the rest of the house.

Alma had just started down the hallway which lead to the right of the stairs, back towards the front of the house when she heard voices upstairs, the front door closing and then a thundering of steps down the stairs next to her.

“I’m so sorry about that...where are you?” Tom's voice came from behind her.

“Down here,” she called from the room she’d just entered on her left, small, dark because there were no windows, but when she turned on the light each wall was lined with bookshelves, “Being nosey.”

“Ah, you found my library,” Tom came up behind her, resting his hands on her hips, and dropping a kiss to her shoulder, “I’m busted, aren’t I?”

“You are,” she giggled, “Can I join it? Is there a form?”

“Nope, no forms here,” Tom chuckled and turned her in his arms, “Although, I’m loath to admit, I scarcely use this room. When I brought the house I insisted upon a library with the intention of reading a lot more, I loved to read when I was younger, but I just don’t get the time.”

“Your house is mad, Tom, it’s just…insanely big, why do you need all this space?” Alma allowed him to lead her out and back towards the open plan living area.

“Honestly I don’t. But…it’s a fantastic house and I could afford it. I’m embarrassed to say I can’t remember the last time I went to the top floor, I have two guest bedrooms up there, neither of them have ever been used.”

“Isn’t that a waste?”

Tom shrugged as he walked over to the kitchen, and started pottering around, fetching two flutes from a glass fronted cupboard and then moving a hand along the counter until he came to a handless drawer which he pushed in, and then it opened in a push release motion revealing a pull out champagne cooler, lined with at least six bottles. Tom picked out the end one and set it on the counter, then closed the door.

“A drink I think,” he gestured to the bottle.

“Would it be silly to ask if you have anything else?” Alma wrinkled her nose at the champagne, “I’m not a lover of champagne.”

“Ah…that would explain why you declined it at the club that night,” Tom grinned at the memory, and Alma shook her head and mouthed ‘stalker’ at him, “It’s Bollinger!”

“It all tastes the same.”

Tom looked horrified at her statement, but put the bottle away anyway, “One day, love, I’ll educate you properly on champagne. I can assure you it does not ‘all taste the same’. But this evening, as you’re my guest, it’s your choice, come on.”

He took her hand in his and lead her back past the stairs and the door to the library and another open door which Alma didn’t get chance to peer into because Tom had lead her to another staircase leading down. He gestured for her to go first.

As she descended the stairs a familiar smell hit her nose, only faint, but she recognised chlorine filling the air. At the bottom another short hall with doors doing off, to one side a gym, then what looked like a salon or treatment room. The other side opened out into a large games type room, sofas, a pool table. Then straight ahead a large rectangular pool sunken into the ground.

“You have a pool!” Alma couldn’t help but exclaim.

“I do,” Tom chuckled, “But I wanted to take you through here,” he lead her into the games room and on the far side there was a bar. A well-stocked bar which wasn’t much smaller than the one upstairs in The Emerald Lounge, “What can I get you, Miss. George?”

“Wow,” Alma leant on the stainless steel top and peered at the vast selection of optics and contents of the fridges below, “Do you have grenadine?”

“I do,” Tom reached for a bottle of the sweet syrup.

“Vodka, grenadine, and lemonade, please.”

“Interesting…I have Absolut?”

“Perfect,” Tom prepared the drink for her, taking ice from a small drawer, and making it in a tall glass. Finally he slid it across to her, “You should try one.”

“Maybe I will.”

“I call it a Fallen Shirley Temple.”

“Clever,” Tom laughed, and quickly prepared himself an identical drink, then took a sip, “I must say, this is good.”

Alma hummed in agreement and smiled at him over the rim of her glass. This was all very surreal. Tom seemed sometimes, too normal to live like this. In a house with far more bedrooms than he required and although beautiful and pretty damn cool with all its fancy features, it lacked character. There was absolutely nothing within this house to Alma which screamed Tom.

Although often Tom also came across as far from normal. She delighted in telling him he was strange, or weird. He didn’t seem offended by that either. Because he wasn't your boy next door, he had a very strange life and Alma just loved trying to figure him out.

A low buzzing broke their comfortable moment of quiet. Then it stopped and started again. Tom set down his drink on the bar and took out his phone, glancing at the screen then at Alma, “I’m sorry, I need to take this.”

Before Alma could so much as nod he was striding out the room and thundering up two flights of stairs. Alma with her drink slowly made her own way back to the living area on the lower ground floor. This was just Tom, she knew that. Work was never far away.

“Alma, love, I’m so sorry, I need to pop out for a bit,” Tom told her minutes later when he returned down to the family room where she'd settled on one of the comfortable worn leather sofas.

“What?”

“Its work, I won’t be long. A hour maybe, two max. I’ll bring back some dinner.”

“You’ve got to be joking? What the hell am I meant to do?” she wasn’t prepared to hide her annoyance. How could he think it was alright to just leave her there?

“Make yourself at home. Help yourself to the bar, take a tour, I know you’re dying to,” Tom reeled on a list of things as he approached her, he cupped her cheek and pressed a brief kiss to her lips, “Go for a swim.”

“I don’t have my cozzy,” Alma told him, pointedly, knowing he was trying to butter her up.

“Alma, I’m sorry.” 

“No…no you’re not. You know what, I’m gonna go. I like you, Tom. But not enough to be constantly let down on dates. I don’t ask for anything from you other than your time. You know I’m basically the most low maintenance girl you could ever ask for, but I won’t just be a bit of fun for you to keep at your beck and call whenever you get a bit bored and want to slum it for a bit,” Alma strode away going for her bag.

“Alma, stop,” she’d never heard him raise his voice before, but the words left his lips loudly, and firmly and in a way which brooked no argument. She stopped in her tracks and turned to look at him. Despite the confidence of his tone, her did look a little panicked at the thought of her leaving, “Is that what you think this is, Alma?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but his phone started ringing again. He took it from his pocket and looked at the screen, then at Alma, “Just go,” she sighed, reluctantly backing own, “I’ll wait here, we can talk about it when you get back.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, quickly closing in on her to press his lips to hers, before turning and sprinting up the stairs to his front door. Seconds later she heard the door open and close, then the engine of his car start up. Alma took herself upstairs and through to the large, neat sitting room and peered out the front window in time to see Tom’s car pull out onto the main road and the electric gates closing behind him.

“Silly girl,” she muttered to herself, and shook her head, before turning and making her way back through the house.


	6. Chapter Five

Night had well and truly fallen by the time Tom pulled his car onto his driveway and the electric gates to his north London townhouse closed automatically behind him. The front of his house was well lit from the outside but beyond the windows it was dark.

He felt guilt pool in his stomach. He should have let Alma leave.

Asking her to stay was cruel, it’s not like she could voluntarily leave once he secured his front gate. She was trapped in there, and if in his longer than expected absence she’d tried to leave and realised she couldn’t, there was no telling how she’d react when he went inside.

Making her stay could have potentially done more harm than good.

But he’d not intended to leave her, he’d been looking forward to their evening together. His presence shouldn’t have been required, Ben had told him not two hours earlier that everything was in hand. But then the call came, and his carefully mapped out plans, which he’d spent weeks working on looked set to fall apart, and he couldn’t allow that to happen, he couldn’t take that risk. As the saying goes, if you want a job done right, do it yourself. Tom got his hands dirty more than he liked to admit.

In normal circumstances, with any other woman he’d ever dated work came first. He’d have had Jensen collect them, drive them home, compensate them for their time and it would be unlikely he’d see them again. In fact seeing any woman more than once was an unusual occurrence for Tom. The majority of dates he had were just that, dates. Women he used for the purpose of having one of his arm, for an event, a gala or a meal with a client. Sometimes he took them to a hotel suite, sometimes he arranged them a ride home. But never did he get attached.

Alma was different. He knew from the second he saw her he wanted her. He wanted her as more than a pretty little thing to hang off his arm and he knew for certain she was not the sort of woman who’d appreciate a one night stand in one of his five star hotels. No matter how nice a suite it was.

She was the first woman he’d ever invited into his home.

It was a risk, he knew. But he couldn’t help himself. It was a risk worth taking. Besides his house was the safest place in London.

The house was quiet when he closed the door behind him, and the upper ground level was dark, although he could see a light coming from the staircase which lead down to his main living area. Tom hurried downstairs, eager to find Alma and shower her with apologies and start trying to make up for abandoning her in his home. He’d picked up a Chinese take away on his way back through, though originally he’d planned to test his own culinary skills to try and impress her.

But when he reached his kitchen it was empty, and so was his lounge area. Although the television was on, and playing at a low volume, and the cushions were creased where Alma had clearly been sitting for a little while. Tom set the paper bag of Chinese food on the kitchen counter and frowned. Then he headed for his library, she’d been fascinated by it earlier on, but the room was dark and undisturbed. It was only when he turned from closing the door again did he catch sight of something crumpled on the floor near the top of the stairs to his basement. Picking it up and holding it out he realised straight away what it was.

Tom held up the blouse Alma had been wearing when she’d arrived at his home earlier that evening, white cotton with black embroidery on it around collar. He smirked to himself and looked down the stairs, at the bottom he could see a second dark pile on the floor, her black cigarette trousers, and slightly further on, much to Tom’s delight, a cream lace bra.

So this was how she was playing it?

He picked followed her breadcrumb trail of clothing all the way to the pool, and watched in rapt fascination as Alma’s naked body moved through the water in front of him. He scrunched up the pair of cotton knickers he’d picked up just moments earlier in his hand and brought them to his face, inhaling deeply.

“Dirty perv,” Alma came to a stop by his feet, her fingers gripping the edge of the pool, and Tom couldn’t help but stare as her breasts bobbed up in the water. He’d not expected this was how he’d see her naked for the first time, but he wasn’t complaining. She was perfect.

“Says the woman skinny dipping in my pool,” Tom chuckled.

“I hope whatever pressing matter called you away from our evening was worth it?”

“I can assure you if I’d been able to avoid it, I would have…” Tom trailed off and stepped over to the bar, dropping Alma’s knickers on the tabletop and slipping his suit jacket from his shoulders.

“You’re a very lucky man, Thomas.”

“I know,” he nodded, and started slipping open the buttons of his shirt. When he pulled it off and laid it over the top of his jacket and turned back around, Alma had pushed herself away from the edge of the pool and was now floating on her back, eyes closed. Her legs kicked gently to give her momentum and keep her afloat. Tom kicked off his shoes and pulled his socks off too, then unfastened and pushed his trousers over his hips along with his Calvin’s.

Alma didn’t look up when he stepped into the water and submerged himself to his shoulders in the pool with her. The water was always kept at the most perfect temperature. Not cold, but not too warm either, meaning the body adjusted quickly and instantly relaxed the muscles.

“Do you swim in here often, or is it another feature of this ridiculous house you don’t use?” Alma asked, without opening her eyes.

“Actually, I use the pool and gym several times a week,” Tom told her, “Do you like it?”

“Yes.”

Tom swam to where Alma was now floating, almost in the middle of the pool and when he reached her, he stood where she floated, the water only roached the middle of his chest at this point. He just watched her for a few seconds, taking in her body, her pale yet flawless skin and soft belly. He was so very fond of how soft Alma was when he held her, but to see all those wonderful curves unhidden by wrap dresses or hip hugging jeans. He’d found a whole new appreciation for her form.

“Alma?” she opened her eyes at the sound of her name, and looked at him. He silently asked permission to touch her, gazing into her eyes and waiting for that sign of approval. Tom was a lot of things, not all of them good, but he did pride himself on remaining a gentleman. He’d never do anything she didn’t want him to.

Her lips quirked into a small smile, “You can touch me.”

Permission granted, he moved in closer, positioning one arm under her shoulders to support her in the water whilst the other hand he brought to her belly, covering its soft expanse with a spread palm.

His eyes didn’t leave hers as he trailed his wet hand upwards, the water allowing it to glide across her skin to her ribcage, “I’m glad you stayed.”

“Didn’t give me much choice.”

“You always have a choice, Alma. I’m not about to take that away from you. It’s what draws me to you. You have a voice and you’re not scared to use it.”

“Doesn’t it get boring, always getting what you want?” Alma smirked when she asked the question, and Tom’s hand closed over one breast, squeezing lightly. He didn’t answer her question, instead dipped his head and touched his lips to hers.

And just like that, the moment was over when a wave of water cascaded over Tom’s head and he fell back spluttering. He caught his breath and opened his eyes in time to catch Alma thrust her arms through the water again and sent another gigantic splash at his face. He could hear her laughing, and he quickly pulled himself together, moving through the water quickly after her as she swam away from him. But he was a strong swimmer and caught up quickly, managing to grasp one of her ankles and yank her back towards him.

A loud squeal escaped Alma’s lips, and for a few seconds Tom couldn’t see much at all through the water splashing around him as she fought him wrangling her back into his arms. Then calm descended when she latched her legs around his narrow hips, anchoring herself to him, and clutching her hands to his shoulders.

“Minx,” he muttered, before his mouth descended on hers once more, and this time she held on tightly as his touch breached her lips and danced with hers. He could taste the sweetness of the grenadine she’d had in her drink earlier on, he groaned into her mouth when she adjusted her legs causing her naked body to slid against his. He was painfully hard, and his cock was trapped between them, at the apex of her thighs, just centimetres from its desired destination.

“Fuck…Tom,” Alma gasped at the contact, and moved one hand from his shoulder downwards, forcing space between them, so she could grasp him in her palm. It was only then he realised what she intended to do, as she shifted her hips and positioned him at her entrance.

“Wait, love,” he groaned, regrettably, “Not here.”

“Why?” she whimpered, unmoving, just holding him there, his tip barely breaching her. He could feel her trembling. He wanted her so badly. He drank in her flushed cheeks, and blown pupils.

“I want to do this properly,” he clarified, in his experience sex in the water was highly over-rated. It sounded wonderful in theory, but the reality was that water meant not as much natural lubrication, and could be quite an uncomfortable coupling. He wasn’t sure what Alma’s experience was in that department, but he would much rather take her to his bed, where he could ensure her enjoyment, “Upstairs.”

Alma appeared to think over her words for a fraction of a second, before gently releasing her grasp on him and unhooking her legs from his waist so she could make so space between them, “You’re right,” she nodded.

“Also, I brought food, are you hungry,” Tom asked, as they started moving through the water towards the edge of the pool. Tom pushed himself out of the water, and Alma watched him as she sauntered towards the benches along the wall, where fluffy white towels were neatly folded.

“Starving,” she grumbled, before heaving herself out of the water onto the edge then stood up, and allowed Tom to wrap one of the huge towels around her shoulders. Tom fastened a towel around his own hips and reached for her hand, she took it, but when he moved to lead her towards the staircase, she tugged him back, “Why do I get the feeling you’re putting this off?”

Tom frowned, “Is that what you think?”

She shrugged, then lifted her eyes to his, and shook her head, “No…no I don’t think so, I just… I really like you, Tom. I really want you, but there’s always something. Like this evening, but even when you don’t get called away, I feel like there is a little bit of you somewhere else. But just then, in the pool, I felt like I had all of your attention just for a minute.”

“You’ve got all my attention now, love,” he assured her, but he hated her apt description of him. He wanted every single ounce of his attention to be on her and he hated that she’d noticed it wasn’t, “And I only ask if you’re hungry because I know you’ve not had dinner and you’ll need your energy for what I have planned for you tonight. I fully intend to take you to my bed, and to keep you there for as long as I possibly can.”

“Damn silver tongue, Thomas,” Alma grumbled again, but there was a noticeable smile on her lips and she finally allowed him to lead her upstairs where their dinner was waiting.

Dinner was a bit of a ridiculous affair. Neither of them wanted to eat, they picked at the food Tom had brought which was almost completely cold by the time he dished it out onto two plates, and set them on the dining table. They ate whilst still robed only the towels from the pool, and although Tom’s hid his modesty well, for Alma she had one of two choices, either hold it closed over her chest, but the fluffy material was not large enough to cover her thighs so sitting down she was scarcely covered, alternatively, she attempted to save the modestly of her lower half, but risk exposing her top half, which she knew Tom wouldn’t have an issue with, but she wanted to some dignity whilst she ate.

Although having watched her struggle with the towel as they tucked into their dinner, eventually Tom reached for her, taking her cutlery from her fingers and putting it on her plate, he then tugged her by her wrists from the chair diagonally adjacent to his. When she stood he quickly did away with her towel, and yanked her gently to sit on his knee.

“That’s better,” he smirked, then pulled her plate across the table towards the, “Now eat up.”

A few forced mouthfuls later, and Alma honestly couldn’t handle another mouthful. She’d never tried eating through full blown arousal, but it was much harder than she had anticipated. It didn’t help that whilst sitting on Tom’s lap he insisted on ‘accidently’ brushing a hand on her thigh, or an arm on her breast as he leant to help himself to another forkful of his own food. The second he set his own cutlery down she wasted no time in turning herself too straddle his lap.

“Please tell me you’re done?”

“Someone’s impatient,” Tom smirked at her, as one of his large palms covered her naked breast, thumb rubbing over the nipple, causing Alma’s entire body to shudder.

“You’re a fucking tease.”

“Only because you’re so wonderful, all worked up like this, Alma. You have no idea how fucking hot you look right now, do you?”

No, she didn’t. She didn’t feel hot, not in the metaphoric sense of the word, but in the literal sense, she was roasting. Her whole body burned with want, she could feel her centre throbbing with need, made worse by her prone position, legs spread either side of Tom’s lap. Her inner walls clenched at nothing and her breasts tingled, as the taut buds of her nipples strained for Tom’s touch.

“Please…please can we go upstairs now, please I need you to fuck me, Tom.”

“Oh, have a little patience, love,” Tom smirked, and swiftly gripped Alma under her knees, and stood up from his seat. She shrieked, and wrapped her arounds around his neck, clinging onto him as he started towards the stairs, “I fully intend to fuck you tonight, more than once if I get my way,” Alma was stunned by his strength, as he reached the top of the first set of stairs and started for the next, she was not a small person, “But first, I do intend to spread you out on by bed, and enjoy your delicious, incredibly responsive body. I want to get to know you, I want to taste you. Would that be okay.”

Alma could only nod as he finally reached his bedroom which took up most of the first floor. She’d nosed around it earlier in his absence, amazed by its vast size. Although Tom’s wide stride made short work of the space when she found herself landing on the soft mattress of the queen sized bed, and Tom finally dropped his own towel and crawled onto the bed with her.

He stole another bruising kiss and Alma felt suddenly drunk, like she’d had more than the one vodka she’d had earlier that evening. She could barely comprehend what was happening, when Tom sat back on his haunches, took her ankles and forced her legs wide apart, putting her completely on display for him.

Alma was not a shy woman. She liked her body, she was proud of her extra curves, and even those wobbly areas around her thighs and arse. She was healthy and happy she may not have been a size eight but she was solid and soft all at once. Perhaps it was her younger upbringing in the military where there was little female influence, or perhaps it was her studies of anthropology teaching her that there were so many more important things to worry about than thigh gaps and hip dips. But right now, as Tom stared down at her in what should have been a prone and vulnerable state, she felt like a goddess. The hunger in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Tom appeared almost fearsome as he drank her in, eyes dark and his shoulders squared almost aggressively. In their time together she'd noticed that many feared the man she was dating, her housemate for one, though she’d put that down to embarrassment and undue nervousness of having an almost celebrity in their home. But Tom's staff, those she'd met, revered him. They obeyed him in a way that suggested they were terrified not to. And she’d never understood why. Tom was a sweetheart, caring, thoughtful, he had a wicked sense of humour and a dangerously dirty laugh. But scary he most definitely was not.

But the darkness in his eyes now showed Alma a new side of the man she'd spent the last six weeks trying desperately to figure out. Stripped bare and at his most feral, Alma realised for the first time she was seeing the real Tom, with no walls up. And fuck, it was thrilling.

“Alma,” Tom growled her name, “You’re pure sin, love.”

“Please...” she was begging, pleading, for what she didn’t know. She’d never been one to beg, certainly not in the bedroom, but she was shaking with anticipation, she needed him to do something, she could actually feel her arousal trickling from her and on to the sheets below.

“Pleasure,” the word barely left his lips before his face was buried between her thighs. Not even licking or sucking, just nuzzling her pussy, his nose brushing her engorged clit causing her to press her hips upwards, smothering his face.

Then his hands came to her thighs holding her legs down and apart all at once , his ministrations regulated, his tongue started exploring her folds, touching her swollen nub then working downwards, darting in and out at her entrance, making her squirm. She was on the precipice, but she couldn’t come, not yet, he was keeping her right on the edge of ecstasy, Alma was delirious with need and she knew that’s what Tom wanted, he knew exactly what he was doing with her.

Then his mouth left her, quickly biting down hard on the generous flesh of her inner thigh before soothing it with a hot lick, he brought his body back over hers, and his black eyes caught hers for a fraction of a second before his mouth descended on hers. She was engulfed by the taste and smell of her own arousal as he owned her mouth with his kiss, all the whilst hiking her leg up.

He'd asked her weeks ago if she was on birth control. A slightly awkward and out of context conversation in which almost like a business transaction he'd called her and asked her what method she used and asking if she'd like him to arrange an appointment with a private doctor. She’d wanted to be offended at the time, until he finished the call by telling her he'd been visited that morning and been tested, he would let her know when the results came through. Like most of Tom's behaviour, it was unusual, but it always came from a place of respect and utmost care. So she'd assured him she'd not long been checked herself and she'd not had a partner since, also that she had been taking the pill for many years and wasn't looking to change that method for the foreseeable future. He'd been happy with that.

“Is this alright?” the edge of menace left Tom's voice for a moment, as the request for her assurance came out in a gentle tone. Alma could only nod, but his eyes didn’t leave hers until she’d voiced her permission.

“Yes, please...Tom,” his name left her lips in a breathy whimper, and for the second time that evening his cock was at her entrance. But he paused again.

“I want you to come like this, around my cock. Can you do that? Tell me what you need,” he pecked her lips, encouraging her to answer, and her heart nearly imploded. What a question.

Could she come like that? Not usually, usually penetration alone didn’t get her there. Although it had happened with the assistance of some secondary stimulation. By her own hand more often than not. Only once had she orgasmed from just penetration and it wasn't a man who had gotten her there, but one interestingly experimental night in Canada whilst travelling, with another woman and a very large dildo angled just right and even that had come as quite a shock and not happened since. Nor had her forays with another woman because although open to experimentation in her late teens Alma much preferred men.

“I’m not sure, maybe,” she told him honestly, “I’m so close, I might.”

Tom nodded and eased himself inside, finally breaching her entrance and filling her quickly. He was a nice size, Alma was no stranger to sex, and had seen all sorts. Tom was average, maybe slightly above. Well-proportioned in relation to the rest of his body. But there was enough to touch where it was important and to make her feel full and breathless, “If I touch you here?” his hand slid between them, his thumb pressed down gently on her clit.

“Hnugh,” the embarrassing sound left Alma's lips and her hips buckled immediately, “Yes!” She reached up pressing her palms to Tom's chest as he started moving, slowly, withdrawing to the tip then plunging back in, tortuously slowly, until he bottomed out, and at the angle of her hips, brushed her g-spot and his circled his thumb over her clit again, “Again,” she was close now, if he did that clever little move once more she'd be done for.

Tom obliged her, and repeated the action and almost instantly Alma was reeling. Her mouth dropped open and her back arched as far off the bed as her body would allow, with Tom still over her. She screwed her eye shut and rode out the orgasm which raged through her body, like currents shooting to every single nerve ending.

“Good girl, perfect,” she heard Tom murmur almost comforting as he continuing thrusting into her as she came down from her high, although her channel still sensitive, continued to clench around him, as he moved. Then he was gathering her in his arms, and he sped his thrusts. Alma whimpered as his rutting sent aftershocks through her veins and she clutched onto Tom, as he handled her like a rag doll, just taking her along for the ride as he searched for his own release.

Tom’s heavy breaths turned into grunts as he neared his end, and his thrusts were relentless and erratic. There was a burning heat building in Alma’s core, and she dug her nails into Tom’s flesh, it was a familiar sensation and she knew what was happening moments before a second climax washed over her, this time causing her to release a gush of moisture, which in turn sent Tom over the edge, his thrusts faltering as Alma’s thighs tightened around his hips, and he yelled out his release, collapsing on top of her seconds later and burying his face in the clammy skin of her breast.

“You still alive?” Alma asked, having listened to his heavy, even breaths for several minutes.

Tom lifted his head and shot her a winning grin, “Just about, darling.”

∞∞∞

His phone ringing roused him from his deep slumber and Tom reached out to the bedside table and put it to his ear.

“Hiddleston,” he answered, not hiding the fact that he was half asleep.

“Sir,” he recognised the voice of his first subordinate, Ben, on the other end of the line, “It’s done.”

“I should hope to,” Tom grumbled and pulled himself up, glancing across his bed to find the woman he’d last seen sleeping next to him, no longer there, just a dip in the pillow where she’d rested her head. He frowned to himself, but pushed that concern aside for a second and turned his attention back to the call, “All as expected?”

“Yes, Sir,” Ben answered, “We’ll debrief at four, are we to expect you?”

“Not today,” Tom answered, as he caught sight of his bedroom door opening and the beautiful woman who was supposed to be next to him appeared carrying two mugs and wearing a very satisfied smile, “I trust you can manage to debrief the team without my help. You can fill me in tomorrow, I’ll see you in my office at eight o’clock sharp.”

“Yes, Sir.

“Oh and Ben… I want Watts in attendance.”

Tom listened to the deep intake of breath on the other end, then a cough as his employee cleared his throat, “Certainly, Sir. I’ll see to it…enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

Tom ended the call without answering, and placed his phone back on the bedside table.

“You don’t take a day off, do you?” Alma chastised, setting the two steaming cups of coffee on the table next to his phone, then clambering onto the bed to straddle him.

“Actually I do. I just told him I wouldn’t be in the office until tomorrow.”

She screwed up her nose, “Seriously, you’re going into the office on a Sunday? Who works on a Sunday.”

“Lots of people,” Tom chuckled, “Retail workers, emergency services…”

“Ah you’ve just reminded me,” Alma leapt up, and scrambled for the remote control on the table on the other side of the bed, “How does this thing work?” she frowned, looking for the button which enabled the television to rise from its hidden place in the foot of Tom’s bed, “Ah!” the television electronically appeared and came on, “You need to see the news, you won’t believe what’s happened.”

Alma sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed as she figured out how to get the channel guide up, then located the BBC news channel.

“When did you get dressed?” Tom mused, realising the woman he’d spent the night making love to, looked much more refreshed than she had any right to given how exhausted he felt himself, and she wore a fresh set of pyjamas which she must have brought with her.

“I brought my stuff up here yesterday whilst you were out, I woke up ages ago and had a shower…amazing shower by the way, and put these on so I could go and get us coffee. I’d have made some food too, but I’m going to be honest, your kitchen scares me… here look, it’s all over the news.”

The fifty inch LCD filled with images of major devastation. A news reporter stood on the scene keeping the viewers updated, as black plumes of smoke and flames ripped through the building in the background.

Tom sat forward with interest and listened to the reporter speak.

“It’s thought the blaze started at sometime between ten o’clock and midnight, when the factory had closed and all its one hundred and twenty six workers had left for the day. The blaze was contained deep within the main structure of the building, meaning the fire was not seen from the outside until several hours had passed, and by that time a catastrophic amount of damage had already been done. It’s still unknown how the blaze started and why the fire detectors did not go off. What we can confirm is that CEO Nigel Martin, is currently preparing a statement for the press, and whilst the fire service are still fighting to put out the blaze, it’ll be announced later today what the future may hold for Metaltech and Flight Logistics, after an already difficult year, which saw over one-hundred job losses, and a bail out from Hiddleston Enterprise to keep them in the market…”

“Did you know? Is that what that call was about?” Alma’s eyes widened.

“Er…yes. Yes… It’s being handled,” Tom coughed and nodded, “It’s devestating, for sure, but it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Are you serious? Nothing to worry about?”

“Do I look worried?”

“No…but…what about all the jobs people will lose?”

“They’ll be well compensated, I assure you.”

“Metaltech is massive, I had no idea you had investments there.”

“It’s not really me, it’s the business.”

“Yes, but… won’t you lose money?”

“Alma, please stop worrying about this. Metaltech is just a drop in the ocean in term of my investments, it’s very sad for those losing their jobs, and Nigel is a good man who spent his life building up his business, I’m sorry for him. But they were in financial trouble for a long time, and unfortunately I couldn’t help them out of that dip. It’s no secret, it’s been highly publicised.”

“Do you think it’s an insurance job? I mean… if the company is struggling that much…” Alma frowned and turned back to watch the ongoing report.

“I doubt it, just a freak accident I expect. Electrical I imagine.”

“It’s sad, look at it…that building was iconic, it’s only an old factory but it seems so intrinsic in the image of London, don’t you think?” Alma turned off the television and moved back up the bed, much to Tom’s relief, she crawled under the sheets and tucked herself into his side.

“I suppose it is,” he agreed, and reached for his coffee.

“Prime real estate though,” she seemed to almost be thinking out loud, she turned and looked at him, “Commercially speaking…right on the river…not a shabby area, actually a factory rather brought its appeal down a bit, don’t you think?”

Tom stared at her for a second, before smirking, and shifting forward on the bed to reach out for her, “Listen to you, and I thought I was the cold-hearted businessman.”

“You’re not cold hearted, Tom,” Alma’s eyes softened.

“Many would disagree, darling,” he admitted, then wrapped his arms around her, finally pulling her into his arms, and she moved into his body, pressing a kiss to his lips, “But I’m glad you don’t.”


	7. Chapter Six

“It’s honestly sickening.”

“What is?”

“That stupid smile that you can’t seem to wipe off your face.”

Alma just shook her head and chuckled to herself as she continued to rifle along the rail of dresses in the small boutique shop in Camden Town’s Stables market. She plucked out a white dress, which flared out at the bottom. It had spaghetti straps and tiny little embroidered cactus’ dotted all over it, “What about this one?”

“It would look nice with that with that little green cardy,” Jess agreed, and moved along to the display of accessories, “I heard he paid high class escorts for lessons in pleasing a woman.”

“Well if that’s true, I can assure you it was money well spent,” Alma wasn’t honestly sure what Jess’ problem was with Tom. He’d done nothing to personally offend her house mate, in fact they scarcely saw one another. Yet every now and then Jess would made a snarky comment, which suggested she was less than approving of Alma’s new relationship.

“If he’s so bloody wonderful, Alma, why isn’t he buying you a new get up for this shindig? It’s not like he can’t afford it.”

“Shindig?” Alma snorted, “He’s taking me to watch the Tennis, it’s hardly a party.”

“Wimbledon is kind of a big deal.”

“Even if he’d offered I’d have declined. Just because he’s got money it doesn’t mean I should expect him to spend it on me. Not that he doesn’t try, you know I’ve started leaving an hour earlier for lectures and texting him not to send Jenson,” Alma giggled, “He despises the thought of me on the tube, mingling with the commoners.”

“Alright for some,” Jess scoffed, “Are you trying that on, or what?”

“Yeah, I will...” Alma sighed and headed for the fitting room.

“I’m thinking of quitting at the club,” Jess’ voice came from directly outside the cubical and Alma quickly tugged the dress up, and reached behind her for the zip, only managing to pull it up half way. Then she tugged back the curtain and glared at her friend, “What the hell, Jess?”

“I hate it. I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“You hate Brie, you love the job.”

“Don’t call her by her first name, like she’s your best mate or something,” Jess scowled.

“She couldn’t be further from it,” Alma stepped from the fitting room and turned, “Help with my zip?”

Jess quickly fastened up the dress, and Alma turned back, “It’s perfect, Al… this sort of thing always looks so good on you.”

“I’ll get this one, it’s in the sale,” Alma nodded, and turned so Jess could help her with the zip once more. Then she disappeared back behind the curtain, but spoke as she changed back into her day clothes, “You know, I can’t stand the woman either, I just don’t respect her enough to refer to her as Ms. Osman.”

“It’s been worse ever since you’ve been seeing him,” she never said his name, he was never Tom, not even Mr Hiddleston. Just…him.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I mean… they had a bit of a thing I think. At least… I think she thought they did. It’s like because technically the two of you are together because of me, she takes it out on me,” Alma came out of the cubical, changed and carrying the dress.

“I don’t think there is anything more than a professional relationship between the two of them,” Alma dismissed Jess’ comment. It was none of her business if Tom and Brie had shared a more intimate relationship in the past. If it was true, she could be certain, knowing how much of a closed book Tom could be, that any affection would have been one sided. For all Tom’s obvious sexual experience with women, it was clear to Alma that he lacked any knowledge of how to actually date and share a relationship with a woman which consisted of more than just physical intimacy.

“Would it even bother you if there had been?”

Alma shrugged, “I’ve got exe’s. Should Tom be bothered by them?”

“I s’pose not.”

“Want me to have a word with him, about Bitch Osman? See if he can settle her down?”

“God no, it’ll probably make things worse.”

“Don’t quit, Jess. You love the job. It’s great money. She may be a cow, but she values your loyalty.”

“Sure.”

“He makes me happy, Jess. I know you think he’ll ditch me when he gets bored, but I don’t think he will. He’s sincere, he cares… he’d be furious if he knew I was telling you this, but… he’s not as intimidating as he makes out, he a big softy really,” Alma shrugged, “But of course, you don’t have to take my word for it. That’s fine, I’ll keep seeing him, no matter what you think.”

“I just think you need to be careful, that’s all,” Jess conceded, “You’ve said yourself he’s a closed book. People are that way for a reason.”

∞∞∞

“Tom.”

“Ben,” Tom looked up from his desk. He was working from the bar for the day, with several meetings arranged around the city, it was easier to be central. He took in his friend and colleagues appearance. Immaculately turned out as always, but apprehension written all over his face. “Everything in order?”

“More or less,” the dark haired man confirmed, pulling up a chair in front of the desk, opposite Tom and dropping himself into it.

“That isn’t the answer I wanted to hear, Ben. Do you have the paperwork?” Tom leant forward on his elbows, and frowned at his friend.

“Not quite. I’m afraid, a couple of the factory staff are kicking off. Calling for an investigation, but it’s in hand. Simpkins says it’ll be overthrown, not enough evidence,” Ben started, but there was more. Tom wasn’t stupid, he could tell when information was being withheld.

“I have no concerns with the factory staff. It’s nothing that a decent payoff won’t see to,” Tom waved his hand dismissively, “What else?”

“Well…ah…” Ben shifted, and pushed himself into a more upright position, “The thing is mate…I don’t think it’s cause to worry yet, but –”

“Spit it out, Ben,” Tom hissed, losing his patience.

“Nigel Martin has gone AWOL.”

“I…beg your pardon?”

“That’s to say, Simpkins can’t make contact with him, and I sent the lads round his way to see what was going on, and he wasn’t there. His Mrs was though, so they backed off, so as not to cause a scene. I’ve got someone monitoring the house, there’s been no sign of him coming up twenty-hours.”

“WHAT?” Tom roared as he stood from his desk, chair flying back and hitting the floor, at the same time his fists slammed down on the mahogany surface of his desk.

“Tom, mate… like I said, it’s not even been a day, we’ve got eyes on the wife. I’ve got it under control,” Ben stood up, holding up his hands in a gesture meant to calm his boss.

“Don’t ‘mate’ me, Benedict. Having it under control would have been having surveillance on Martin from the get go, to ensure he stayed where we could see him. Which, if I remember correctly, before I left the job in what I now see are your less than capable hands, you assured me was the case,” Tom stormed around his desk and squared up to his employee, “Do you have any idea how many issues that man could cause for me?”

“I understand, Sir,” Ben steeled himself, “And I can assure you, he will not pose any threats. I will find him, you have my word.”

“I swear to god, Benedict…” Tom trailed off, bringing his palms to his face and taking a calming breath, “Find him…find him and bring him in. I want the papers signed within the next twenty-four hours.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Go.”

“Sir,” Ben nodded once, and turned marching back towards the door and swinging it open, almost colliding with Brie Osman as he did.

“Oh dear,” she drawled, not instantly moving out of his way, but her eyes darting to a clearly livid Thomas, and then back to Ben, “It looks like someone’s been a bad boy.”

“Fuck off, Osman,” Ben sneered, and proceeded to barge past her make his leave.

“Not the sentiment he had last night,” she snickered, stepping into Tom’s office and closing the door behind her, “Not that he had much to say with his head between my thighs.”

“I’m not in the mood, Osman,” Tom snapped, walking across to the small office bar and pouring himself a large measure of whiskey.

“Jealous?”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Good, because I’ve got to get my kicks somewhere. Seeing as you’re still slumming it with what’s her face,” she sauntered towards him, settling her hand on his bicep and squeezing gently.

“Alma.”

“Is that the fat one?”

Tom swiftly shrugged her hand off of him, and slammed down his tumbler, “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you, Osman.”

“Ouch, someone’s in a grumpy mood,” she wasn’t deterred by his warning, moving in on him and pressing a palm to his chest, “Trouble in paradise? She not fulfilling certain needs, Sir?” her fingers traveled south, just reaching his belt before his hand wrapped around her wrist, holding tight enough to cause pain.

“Did you want something, Ms. Osman? Or did you simply waltz into my office to stir trouble?”

“Gus is pushing for an RSVP for the dinner on Saturday.”

“Well of course I’m going.”

“I know, but will their be a plus one?”

“Is one required?”

“Not necessarily, but seeing as this Alma seems to be flavour of the month, I thought you might desire company?”

“Goodness no,” with a sharp shake of the head, Tom strode back over to his desk, “I won’t have her involved in business. If a plus one is a requirement, please call Claire or Leah, they’re good girls, have whichever one wear red, and arrange a car to collect them. If not, have the car pick me up from here at…Christ, it’s this Saturday isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Right, fuck.”

“Is there a problem, Sir?” Brie clicked across his office and sat down opposite him, folding one leg over the other, causing her too short dress to ride even further up her exposed thigh. Tom eyes only lingered on her for a second, before he shook his head.

“No. No problem. I’m attending Wimbledon during the day, I’ll have Jensen drop Alma home, and then bring me here to change,” Tom decided, but inwardly he was dreading telling Alma that he would likely have to cut their outing short, “And find me the number of a good florist, not the last one you used, they were half dead when they arrived.”

Brie gave a dramatic eyeroll and sighed loudly, before pulling herself out of the chair, “Consider it done…Sir.”

∞∞∞

“Do you like the Tennis?”

“I do, I played a little when I was younger.”

“I can see that.”

“Really?”

“Well I can imagine you in one of those little white skirts.”

“Pervert,” Alma giggled and shoved Tom’s arm lightly.

“Do you like Pimm’s?” Tom asked, “I’ll get us some drinks.”

“Sure.”

“Strawberries and cream?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“I’ll be right back,” Tom stood from where they were seated in one of the VIP stands overlooking the centre court. She watched him as he sidestepped to the end of the row and started down the steps to the bar area. Just as he reached the bottom step he was taking his phone from his pocket and putting it to his ear. Typical.

She’d tried not to get cross when he broke it to her that their tennis date would unfortunately be cut short due to an unavoidable business dinner. She couldn’t lie, she was upset, something which didn’t happen often, she considered herself quite hardened and in the past she’d have definitely told any man who let her down on more than one occasion, to sling their hook.

But Tom was different.

Tom felt genuine remorse, and each time he’d let her down he’d made up for it. Be that with another date which was uninterrupted, or with beautiful bouquets of flowers which she was running out of room for in her tiny two bed house. Jess said she was an idiot for letting him twist her round his little finger the way he did, but she didn’t understand, if she did she’d realise that the opposite was closer to the truth. Tom would do anything for Alma, and she’d well and truly fallen for him.

“Thank you,” Alma grinned at Tom when he returned with two glasses of Pimm’s and a little tub containing her strawberry’s and cream. But he didn’t smile back, in fact her was frowning slightly, “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Tom assured her, taking his seat and sipping his drink.

“It doesn’t seem it.”

“It’s nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

“Well it is, is it makes you miserable for the entire afternoon.”

At that comment, Tom let out a puff of air from his lips and nodded at her, “You’re right,” he leant in, and pressed a light kiss to the corner of her mouth, “I’m sorry. You’ve got my full attention, I’ve been looking forward to this.”

“Me too.”

∞∞∞

“Who’s Claire?”

“Claire?”

“Yes…Claire who just text you?”

“How did you –”

“It came up on the fancy screen,” Alma nodded at the eight inch LED display in the centre console of Tom’s car. He’d driven them to the tennis, for a change, and now he was driving Alma home. But his phone had still been connected to his hands free via bluetooth. He’d not thought anything of it when his phone vibrated in his pocket to signal an incoming text. But Alma had fallen quiet and didn’t speak until he pulled up in front of her house.

The feature of the Bluetooth connection was that the name or number of the texter would show, and the first line of their text. You could tap it, and the message would be read out electronically. Tom avoided using his phone in the car where possible, especially if he had passengers.

“It’s work –”

“Wow, are you going to lie to me?” Alma looked at him incredulously, “I saw enough of that message, Tom.”

“Now, hold on,” Tom unfastened his seat belt and reached into his pocket for his phone, quickly unlocking it and reading the message. So, the first line did look pretty incriminating.

**>>> Hey sweets, I’ll meet you at EL at seven…**

Alma knew he had an unavoidable business meal that evening, one he’d had to cut their wonderful afternoon at the Tennis short for.

“So? Are you going to start explaining yourself. Because I’m honestly about to get out this car, and you won’t be seeing me again.”

“Claire is an escort, of sorts,” Tom started, and immediately Alma’s eyebrows rose almost to her hairline, “Not _that_ sort of escort…well…that’s not what I pay for her. I can assure you. Can we go inside, and sit down? I don’t really want to do this here?”

“Jess is in,” Alma told him bluntly.

“Good. She can probably back me up on this.”

“Doubt she will. She thinks you’re a pig. She told me rumour has it you were fucking around with Bitch Osman. I told her she was being ridiculous, but now I’m not actually so sure…” Alma shot back.

“No…no I’m not,” Tom shook his head.

“You have though.”

“Yes. I have.”

“Right.”

“But that’s not really relevant, Alma,” Tom continued, “Claire is an escort, a woman I pay to accompany me to work events, which require me to have a plus one.”

Alma’s gave him a blank look, “Require?”

“Yes. Sometimes, it’s… beneficial to attend these events with a woman like Claire.”

“A hooker?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “A beautiful woman, who knows when to keep her mouth shut, and who can flirt with all the dirty old businessmen.”

Alma pursed her lips, “Right. Well. I think I’ll be going now.”

“Alma, wait,” Tom reached out and wrapped a hand around her wrist, stopping her from leaving the car, “What are you doing?”

“You…you…you know for someone so bloody smart, you really are fucking dense sometimes Thomas!” Alma hissed, “I’m your girlfriend. You need a plus one, you either take me or you go alone. I don’t care if it’s work, I don’t give a shit what the bloody hell it is, but you fucking dare go anywhere with another woman on your arm. Call her, cancel, I’ll go and get changed.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t try that. You heard me.”

“Alma, you can’t come,” Tom tried to argue.

“Because you’d prefer Claire’s company over mine?”

“Because it’s work. It’s boring, and messy, and…I don’t want to drag you into that part of my life. I’m protecting you. Alma…I probably should have told you the arrangement regarding female company, and I’m sorry I didn’t, but you need to understand –” but she cut him off again.

“No, Tom. What you need to understand is that whether you like it or not, I’m already in that part of your life. Every time you cancel on me, or cut a date short, or have to take a phone call, I’m being affected. But every time you charm your way back in, with flowers, and sweet words. I’ve had enough. So if it is, as you say it is, and this…Claire, is just there as arm candy, to make you look good. Then you’ll have no problem telling her not to worry, as you’ll be taking your girlfriend this evening,” Alma finished, and shoved Tom’s hand from her arm, and swiftly exited the car, marched to her front door and disappeared inside before Tom could argue.

He stared after her for a moment, not sure what to do. How could he even consider allowing her to accompany him to the evenings dinner.

Gus, better known as Angus Grierson, was a fellow businessman. He was well into his fifties now, but he started his career in importation in his early twenties.

He was not a good man. Tom only knew a fraction of his associates dodgy dealings, but he’d been involved in enough to know he was someone not to be messed with. Did he like the man? No. Not in the slightest. But he was loyal, and always paid what he owed, and Tom was his go to man, whenever he had a situation that needed sorting. The purpose of tonight’s meal was not to discuss any particular business arrangement, but Tom was expected to attend, when invited too solidify their working relationship and build other contacts within the various industries. These dinners were fueled by rich foods, and constantly flowing alcohol. Then plenty of entertainment in the company of many beautiful women. Tom was expected to attend with one such woman, and these parties were certainly no place for his lovely Alma.

But leaving now, and going against her request would certainly mean her ending with him, and he knew he wouldn’t get another chance. His Alma was fiery, but rightly so. She wasn’t asking for the world, just for his time and his honestly. And he wanted to give it to her.

So, against his better judgement, he took out his phone and started making some calls. 


	8. Chapter Seven

“Ms. Osman, please furnish Miss. George with a drink, whilst I change,” Alma followed behind Tom up the spiral staircase, and along the private bar upstairs in The Emerald Lounge. Her third time inside the establishment, but her first time as Tom’s girlfriend, if that’s what she still was. He’d been unbearably quiet on the drive over from her house.

Not that he had any right to be angry with her. Though once inside Alma had had made the most of the few minutes breathing space from the confines of Tom’s car to reflect on what had just happened. His behaviour was totally unacceptable, and she wasn’t about to make excuses for him. There was being oblivious to the fact that having other women act as your plus one when you were in a relationship was wrong, regardless of whether or not you’d done anything more than talk to them. But Tom wasn’t that dense. He must have known her finding out would hurt her. It did hurt. It made her feel like she was some dirty little secret, that he didn’t want the world to see him with her – he’d rather they see him with some beautiful, leggy, blonde, with lip fillers and fake boobs. Well that’s what she imagined Claire looked like, anyway.

But on reflection, she realised that Tom genuinely believed keeping her separate from his work was the right thing, and though she realised many women in her position wouldn’t, she believed Tom when he said he had remained faithful to her. Why else would he have bothered with the whole sexual health check-up, if he was just going to sleep with hookers behind her back?

“I’m Miss. George now?” she snarked, as he rested a hand on her lower back and ushered her towards the bar, which Brie was now haughtily making her way around.

“To my staff you are. They’re beneath you in every way,” with that he brushed his lips chastely against hers, before turning on his heel and striding towards to door which Alma knew lead to the offices.

Alma watched him until he disappeared, then turned back to find a very unimpressed looking Brie Osman, “Pino Grigio, please.”

The blonde woman huffed, and spun around to fetch a glass and prepare the drink. Moments later it was set down atop a napkin, “You’ve really got your feet under the table, haven’t you?”

“I’m sorry?” Alma frowned. Brie was pouring herself a drink and not looking at her.

“You heard me.”

“I heard you. But I’m afraid I don’t understand the insinuation?”

“You’ve managed to wrap that man around your little finger. No mean feat. I should know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“He told you?”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Jessica told you.”

“Are you jealous, Brie?” Alma arched a brow, “I mean, I get it if you are. Tom is… a skilled lover. But you don’t strike me as the relationship type.”

“Neither is he.”

“Ah… I see,” Alma suddenly realised, “Not used to being treated like a regular employee are you? He sees right through you now, doesn’t he?”

The taller woman in the scarlet dress straightened her back and pursed her lips. She gave Alma a hard look then spoke, “You have absolutely no idea who your boyfriend really is, and what you are getting yourself into. You walk in here like you’ve got him all sussed out. Like you’ve managed something no other woman's been able to do. You’re so naive, little Alma. You think you’ve tamed the beast, but you’ve just sent him into hiding.”

“I know Tom isn't perfect –”

“Wow, you really are as green as you look aren't you?” Alma frowned. She wasn’t innocent, or stupid. She had a wealth of life experience and had been looking out for herself long enough to get a good measure of those around her. Or so she thought. She couldn’t suss Brie Osman out though. It was easy to assume the woman was jealous of her relationship with Tom, and that her behaviour was nothing more than vindictive. Ms. Osman set down her drink and curled her fingers round the edge of the bar as she leant forward and lowered her voice, “If I were you, I’d want to get as far away from that man as I possibly could. It’s true, you have some kind of power over him, no doubt it has everything to do with whatever you’ve got hidden between those chubby thighs of yours. He always had a weakness for a pretty snatch. Your insistence to attend Gus' party with him tonight has thrown him for a loop and I’m surprised he caved, knowing Gus' reputation. I really hope you’re worth it. I’d hate to have to clean up another my bosses mistakes."

“I’m not scared of you –” but before Alma could finish her smart retort, the door which lead to the clubs offices flew open and Tom strode out, and almost immediately Brie straightened her back and reached for a champagne flute from the back of the bar.

“I don’t have time, just pour me a short, Osman,” he instructed briskly. With a nod, she abandoned the flute and grabbed a tumbler and a bottle of Jameson’s. Tom didn’t speak until he’d accepted the glass and necked the double shot of Whiskey, “Are you ready?”

Alma looked at her barely touched glass of wine, and then spared Brie the briefest of glances, “Yeah, I’m done.”

“Wonderful, Jenson is downstairs,” Tom placed a hand on her lower back, barely skimming the curve of her arse, “You look stunning by the way.”

“Thank you,” Alma fell in step with him, only pausing at the top of the stairs to turn back to where Brie was trying not to watch them, “Oh… by the way, Ms. Osman. I’m quite fond of my chubby thighs.”

“What was that about, with Osman?” Tom asked as they finally settled in the back of the car. Jensen was waiting at the back door of the club, and nodded his greeting when they’d finally made it down to him.

“Do you care?”

“If she was harassing you, I do.”

“She wasn’t harassing me,” Alma chuckled and finally looked at him, properly for the first time. Tom felt himself fill with relief. She didn’t look mad, “How long until we get there?”

“Half an hour or so?”

“So tell me about Gus. Who is he? What do I need to know?” Alma slipped her hand into his, and he immediately took advantage, bring it up so he could brush his lips over her knuckles.

“Angus Grierson, he’s an old business associate, and as far as he’s concerned…a dear friend,” Tom arched a brow and gave Alma a telling look.

“You don’t like him, or…?”

“Not really. But it’s smart business. He’s very loyal, very reliable,” Tom explained, “But I’m not going to beat around the bush. I’m not comfortable taking you into his home. He’s… not as gentlemanly as he tries to appear.”

“Neither are you,” Alma teased, tugging her hand from his, and sliding it into his lap. Her fingers smoothed over the fine fabric of the beautiful navy suit he’d changed into, and she cupped him gently in her palm, giving his growing bulge a soft squeeze. Then she stalled, “Wait…Angus Grierson…why does that name sound familiar?”

“He’s in the import business.”

“What’s that go to do with you? Wait…Angus Grierson. Isn’t he the guy who got done for drug trafficking. It was all over the news!”

“He got off,” Tom correctly her quickly, and Alma took her hand back. “He was found not guilty, although his shipments were involved, he was found innocent and all charges against him were dropped.”

“Right,” Alma nodded shortly. She wasn’t impressed and she wasn’t about to hide her displeasure at discovering her boyfriend had business associations with a suspected criminal. He may have been found innocent, but Alma was willing to bet a generous pay off saw to that ruling. 

“You don’t have to do this, Alma. I can drop you home.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” she snipped, then as she turned to gaze out the car window, muttered, “Don’t worry, I won’t mention the drug trafficking.”

Tom fell quiet, and after several minutes of uncomfortable silence, Alma felt him shift in his seat next to her. She looked around to see him loosening his tie before removing it completely and shoving it into his pocket. In an almost nervous gesture he brought his hands up and rubbed his palms over his face, before clenching his fists into his lap. It was reasonably dark in the car, but Alma could see the colour had drained from his face. He was fidgeting and if she wasn’t mistaken for the first time since they’d met, Tom appeared genuinely nervous.

Then he moved so swiftly that it caused her to jump slightly, and she turned away to look back out the window, as Tom leant forward, gripping the back of the drivers seat and talking to Jenson.

“Jenson, change of plan. Can you take us to Faraway Corner?”

“Certainly, Sir,” Jensen responded without hesitation, and Alma’s head shot back round in time to see Tom settle back into his seat, bringing his phone to his ear, whilst the other hand undid the top few buttons of his dress shirt.

“Gus, my friend,” he started, “Yes, yes…no I’m afraid not, I was on my way over and I’ve just had a call, there’s a situation I need to deal with, and I’m going to have to cancel my attendance this evening... No…nothing you need to worry about… Yes, I was looking forward to it too,” Tom paused for a long time and Alma couldn’t make out what was being said on the other end, then eventually Tom spoke again, “Of course, please send Missy my regards… can we do lunch this week, on me?... Tuesday is perfect, I’ll see you then.”

As abruptly as it had started, it ended, and he was shoving the phone back into his pocket.

“What did you just do?”

“I cancelled our attendance this evening,” Tom answered, clearly bracing himself for the reaction he knew he was about to get. But it didn’t come, Alma just stared at him incredulously. She wanted to get cross, but she was past that now. Was he that against having her on his arm that he would risk an important business association to avoid people meeting her? Before she could even think about what was happening, her eyes filled with tears and it felt like Tom had reached into her chest and crushed her heart with his fist. Her reaction was clearly the last thing he was expecting, because he immediately jumped into action. “No, no, Alma. Please, listen to me. You were right, you were so right about everything. I’ve been unconsciously doing the one thing I didn’t want to do, and that’s involve you in my business. I’m letting work get in the way of us, and you mean far too much to me to let that happen. Today was meant to be our day, and once again I ruined that by cutting it short.”

“I thought you were ashamed of me,” Alma whispered, her eyes not leaving his. Tom didn’t want to break eye contact now, because right now their entire relationship depended on her trusting his word.

“Never. Christ, Alma…I…I adore you. I want to show you off to the world. But… I will not allow you to get dragged into my work life. You’re better than that, darling. I’ve been a complete twit.”

At that she giggled, and sniffed her almost tears away, “What’s Faraway Corner?”

Tom’s eyes sparkled in the dimly lit car, as she finally asked the question.

“Faraway Corner is a small estate in Oxfordshire.”

“Oh…is it yours?” he’d told Alma he owned multiple properties, although London was his primary residence.

“It is not actually. We’ll be making a surprise visit,” he was purposely dragging this out now, building the suspense for Alma, because he knew she truly wouldn’t expect his next revelation.

“Really?” she frowned at him, “Will we not be over-dressed?”

“I wouldn’t worry, I’m sure my sister will have something you can wear, you’re around the same size.”

“You sister?” Alma’s eyes were wide.

“Yes, she might not be there mind. She comes and goes with work, but my Mother will be delighted to see us.”

“Your Mother?”

“Yes, darling. She’s been asking when she’ll get to meet you. Tonight seems the perfect opportunity.”

They drove for at least another hour before Jensen pulled off a B road, onto a narrow lane which may have been signposted, but it was dark and Alma couldn’t really make out much of what was outside the car window.

Deep down, she knew this was one of Tom’s distraction tactics. She knew not attending the dinner with Gus would mean a busy week of smoothing over the cracks in their working partnership. But for whatever reason, he would take that risk for her. But now she felt nervous.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to meet his Mum and Sister. He spoke of them often, and it was clear he thought a great deal of them, and loved them both dearly. But it hadn’t even occurred to her before now to ask about meeting them, or what that meant for their relationship. For most relationships meeting the family was a big step. For her, she didn’t really have any family, she still saw her Aunt on occasion, so it was always a relationship step she bypassed. But for Tom, a man who kept his private life so very tight to his chest, and who the more time they spent together, the more she was sure he’d never had a real relationship with a woman before her, this was a huge deal.

“Tommy!” the front door to the vast cottage opened and Alma heard the shock in his mother’s voice, before she even laid eyes on her, “What on earth are you doing here? Oh goodness, this is such a wonderful surprise.”

“You know me, Mum. Always one for the element of surprise,” Alma watched as Tom stepped forward and leant down, wrapping his arms around a woman who Alma could now see was in a motorised Wheelchair. She was small, and a little plump, with white hair, and that’s all Alma could really make out in the darkness of the front entryway.

Then the woman who had her arms wrapped tightly around her only son, and her chin rested on his shoulder, opened her eyes, and they widened when she saw Alma skulking a few steps behind her boyfriend.

“And who’s this, Thomas?” his Mum quickly let go of him and he stepped aside, reaching out for Alma, he took her hand and pulled her closer.

“This is Alma George, my girlfriend. Alma, this is my Mum, Diana Servaes,” Tom introduced the two woman and Alma gave a sheepish wave.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Ms. Servaes. This is as much of a surprise to me, as it is to you.”

“None of that dear, it’s Diana. Now please come in, I can’t have you standing out there in the dark,” Diana waved her hand dismissively, and Tom ushered Alma into the house with a hand on her lower back he closed the door behind them, having already waved Jensen off with the instruction to pick them up the following afternoon.

“You have a lovely home,” Alma commented, as they followed Diana through the house. She whizzed through to a homely, open plan living room.

“Thank you, dear,” she smiled, then turned her attention to Tom, “It’s late, have you eaten? I’ll have Julie prepare you some food, and you can take the first guest suite, assuming you’re staying?”

“That’ll be great, thanks, Mum,” Tom nodded, “Sit down, Alma. I’ll get drinks. What time does Sharon come and help you to bed?”

Alma watched with interest at how Tom and his Mum interacted. He touched her shoulder, and leant down to peck her cheek.

“Oh whenever I call her, she’s in the annex having a break,” Diana explained, “Sharon is my live in carer,” she turned to Alma and said by way of explanation, “I used to have ladies pop in a few times a day, but Tom insists on me having someone close by, on call twenty-four seven. Although I barely have need of the poor girl.”

“You had need of her a fair bit, when you had that terrible chest infection last winter,” Tom argued, but it was gentle.

Alma was surprised. Mostly because Tom hadn’t mentioned his Mum’s health to her. She’d never seen any photos, and he spoke about her like she enjoyed a fairly independent life. So to see the obviously quite frail lady, bound to a wheelchair, dependant on home help, came as quite a shock.

“I’m so pleased to finally meet you, Alma,” Diana said once more, when Tom disappeared to find Julie – who Alma learnt was the housekeeper, and had been with the family for almost twenty years – to prepare a light evening meal, and to fetch drinks. “Ever since he told me about you, I’ve been badgering him to bring you for a visit.”

“Well if I’d known that, I’d have insisted we come sooner,” Alma grinned, “I do hope us turning up unannounced isn’t an imposition?”

“Goodness no, I wish he’d do this more. But that boy lives for his work…I’m sure I don’t have to tell you.”

“It’s a bone on contention. I think he works too hard…but…he’s getting better.”

“I’m glad he’s finally found a nice girl. Maybe he’ll start to realise that work isn’t the be all and end all. You’ve been together a little while now?”

“Erm…just over four months,” Alma nodded, just as Tom re-entered the sitting room and settled next to her, placing two mugs of tea on the coffee table in front of them.

“Julie is preparing a meal,” he explained, “Now what have my two favourite women been talking about?”

It was fascinating to Alma to see how different Tom was in his Mother’s home. He seemed to hold himself completely different. Dare she say he seemed even more relaxed than he did in his own home. She wondered why he’d never mentioned his Mother’s health. It became obvious the more she focused on Diana, from the slight slur in her words, and the drop in her features on her left side, that she’d suffered from a stroke at some point. Although judging by how well adapted she was, Alma guessed this might have happened some years ago.

It was just gone eleven o’clock when Diana grew weary and a lovely lady called Sharon was called from the annex to help her to bed. Tom and Alma wished her goodnight, and saw themselves to bed also.

The first guest room, was more of a suite with a large en-suite bathroom, and huge oak four poster bed in the centre. Tom made love to her, taking much more time than usual to shower her with affection, and afterwards they snuggled under this thick duvet. They lay in comfortable silence, whilst Tom stroked her hair, seemingly lost in thought.

“How long ago did your Mum have a stroke?” Alma asked, eventually. Curiosity getting the better of her.

“Ah…goodness… Fourteen years. I was at University,” he started, voice low.

“That must have been really hard,” Alma snuggled closer.

“Erm… at the time, I don’t think I realised how serious it was. Emma was with her, and…James.”

“James?”

“My…father.”

Tom had never mentioned his father before. He spoke of his Mum and his sisters all the time, but not once had he mentioned his Dad, and Alma had assumed that he’d not been around. Perhaps he’d left when Tom was young? But it was a revelation to know that actually, into adulthood, his father had been a part of his life.

“He was the one who cared for her at first. But… he left. He met someone else. Someone who wasn’t ill, and didn’t need him to do everything for them. He just packed his bags and left. I had to hear it from Emma. Mum was…distraught.”

“I can only imagine, that’s terrible.”

“I’ve not seen or spoken to him since. It’s been twelve years. It was only after that and I started visiting home more when I finished Uni, that I realised how much help Mum needed. I built my business, so I knew I’d always have enough money to look after her and my sisters.”

“You’re such a good man, Tom. Your family adore you. I adore you.”

“I’m not a good man, Alma.”

“How can you say that?”

“I’m not a good man,” Tom repeated, moving Alma in his arms, and tilting her chin so he could look her in the eye, “But I take care of those I care about. I care about you, and I want to be a good man for you.”


	9. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the massive delay in posting. I was working on Moomin Valley, and to be honest I got a little stuck with this and I like to keep myself a few chapters ahead. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who had commented so far, i'm so glad you're enjoying this story!

“I’m sorry Maam, I can’t let you in,” Alma stood in front of the doorman outside The Emerald Lounge, hands on hips, and her mouth slightly agape.

“Don’t Maam me, do you know who I am?” she tried again, already not in the best of moods, and now being turned away at the door of her boyfriends club, when she knew very well he was inside. Knowing Tom he was probably watching the security cameras, and knew exactly where she was. “Please can you get on your walkie talkie thing, and tell Mr. Hiddleston that his girlfriend is outside, and she needs to see him as a matter of urgency.”

“Miss. George. I’m perfectly aware of who you are –”

“Where is Ms. Osman. I’d like to see the manager.”

“Please wait here, Miss. George. I’ll see if Ms. Osman is available,” The doorman nodded at his colleague and stepped just inside the building, speaking into his earpiece, and shooting a sideways glance back at Alma.

It was late, and patrons were still queuing for entry to the elite establishment. She’d not planned her visit, and was dressed in some black skinny jeans and a pullover hoodie that had seen better days. There was still a touch of makeup on her face, that she’d applied in the morning before work at the museum. She realised that perhaps she should have changed, the dress code for the club was strict, and regardless of whether she was visiting as a patron or not, she knew Tom wouldn’t be impressed with her lack of care.

Why she was bothered though she didn’t know.

Right now, her so called boyfriend was treading thin ice, and that evenings revelation, after almost a week of radio silence and Alma wasn’t sure how much more she could put up with.

Everything had been going so well. After the impromptu visit to his Mum’s, which turned into a weekend break, Alma really felt like they’d taken an important step. In fact it had been going so well, she’d even met one of his sisters in the following weeks, and visited Diana alone, whilst Tom was working.

There had been less interruptions from work, when they were together. When Tom did have to take a call, he would often tell whoever it was that he needed to call them back and wait until a better time. What it had meant was that they spent a little less time together in the week. But it was worth the sacrifice.

The doorman leant out the doorway and raised one hand beckoning Alma forward. So she hurried in, and he lead her through the main entrance, and straight to the left and through a unmarked door by the booth where guests were paying their entrance fees.

“Straight up, first door on your right,” he grumbled, shutting the door behind her, leaving her alone in the dimly lit stairway.

She traipsed up the stairs and found she vaguely recognised the hall she found herself in. It was the long corridor where Brie’s office was located, and the door to the right lead to the private bar. She opened the door hesitantly to see the woman herself lounging in a booth, laptop open on the table, and her usual glass of champagne nearby.

Alma was about to approach her boyfriends employee, when another voice caught her attention.

“Alma, what the hell are you doing here, babe?” Jess was behind the bar, she had all the glasses out and appeared to be shining them, and putting them back one by one. Alma paused, glancing at Brie, who was now giving her a hard stare, before she approached the bar.

“I’ve come to see Tom,” she explained, keeping it brief.

“He’s in his office, Ben’s in, have you met Ben?” If Alma wasn’t mistaken Jess’s cheeks flushed a little pink at the mention of this Ben fellow. “Oh, I have something really exciting to tell you, but it’ll have to wait until tomorrow. Want a drink?”

“Go on,” Alma nodded, and Jess set to work preparing her favourite tipple. Alma turned and addressed Brie, “I take it, he knows I’m here.”

“He knows,” she nodded, and her eyes dropped back to her laptop screen. Jess placed Alma’s drink on the bar, and Alma mumbled her thanks.

“Shall I make my own way then? Which door is his office?” Alma headed for the door leading back to where the offices were located.

“You’ll do no such thing. Sit down,” Brie nodded to the seat opposite her, “He’ll let me know when he’s ready for you.”

“Busy is he?” Alma queried, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone, “It’s been a hell of week by all accounts.”

“If you’re here to try and seduce him out of his office, I’d personally have put a bit more effort in,” Ms. Osman gestured to Alma’s attire.

“I’m not here to seduce him,” Alma responded bluntly.

“Oh…I see. In the dog house is he? Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Before Alma could respond the phone on the table next to Brie’s laptop buzzed. She picked it up, looked the screen before rolling her eyes and looking back at Alma.

“He can’t see you,” Brie stood up, “I’ll see you out.”

“What?”

“He’s busy, Miss. George. He’s asked I escort you out,” Brie said stiffly. Alma studied her for a second, the woman clearly knew what she was telling her wasn’t going to be well received. She didn’t like Brie, but in this moment, woman to woman, she could tell there was a hint of empathy.

“Fuck this,” Alma snapped, shooting up from her seat at record speed and before Brie could stop her, she was out the door and marching down the corridor. She passed the door she knew lead to Brie’s office, and continued to the end of the hall, where there was another door, clearly signed ‘T W Hiddleston’. Without knocking, Alma placed her hand on the handle, and pushed the door open.

Tom was standing by a small bar, tumbler in hand, with a drop of amber liquid left in the bottom. He wasn’t alone, sitting in the chair opposite the large oak desk was another man, with darker hair, who looked a similar age to Tom, possibly a little older.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Tom?” Alma hissed, not giving him a chance to react to her being in the room, “Sending me off like I’m a nuisance client you don’t have time for?”

Tom, ever so calmly set down his glass, and sighed, “Alma, love. I’m extremely busy –”

“You’ve not spoken to me in over a week, Thomas. I don’t expect to get updates on my boyfriend’s whereabouts from BBC news. Jesus!”

“I’m sorry, Alma, was it? I don’t believe we’ve I’ve had the pleasure,” the other man, who’d been watching the interaction with interest stood from his chair and approached Alma, he held out his hand, and she hesitantly accepted his gesture, surprised when he turned her hand and brought it upwards to place a kiss on her knuckles, “Benedict Cumberbatch… just Ben is fine though.”

“Ben, this is my girlfriend, Alma. Alma…Ben is my…project manager.”

“Lovely to meet you,” Alma looked at Ben, “Project manager…you’ll be very busy over the next year or so then?”

“Ah…yes,” Ben nodded once and looked at Tom, “I must say, our Tommy is a dark horse, I can’t say I blame him though. If I had a woman as beautiful as you, I’d want to keep you all to myself as well.”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” Tom cut in. Alma’s words were a little too hard, her back too straight. “I’m going to have to call you later.”

“Not a problem, mate,” Ben patted his arm, and turned back to Alma once more, “A delight to meet you, Alma. We’ll all have to do dinner soon, I’d love to get to know you better.”

She didn’t respond as the man saw himself out and closed the office door behind him.

“Alma –”

“You don’t get to speak, Tom,” she cut him off, “You’re going to let me speak, you’re going to listen to me, and you’re going to answer my questions. Truthfully,” he nodded once, and gestured to the sofa on the far wall. She shook her head, so Tom picked up his glass and headed for the sofa alone, making himself comfortable.

Alma stood in front of him, “Did you plan to put a hotel on the Metaltech site before or after it burnt to the ground?”

Wow, she didn’t beat around the bush.

News of his most recent acquisition was released to the press that day, and he knew she’d hear of it soon enough. But he’d not been expecting her to take the news quite like this.

“It’s business, love. I put money into the business, it’s unfortunate demise was a huge financial loss. My shares in the business were high, I needed to recoup my losses. This acquisition was of benefit to all parties involved.”

“Is this because of what I said, about it being prime commercial real estate?”

Tom chuckled at that, but as soon as he did, the fire in Alma’s eyes flared up, and he could tell it was the wrong move, “No, Alma. As much as I’d love to bestow the credit on you for such a smart business move. This was not because of your ever so business savvy insight.”

“So you knew. You knew before the fire even happened, that your investment would be worthwhile, because you’d drain the business for what you could, and if for any reason it failed, you had that land?”

Tom took a slow drag of his Scotch, and eyed her up and down. He should never had let her get this involved in his life. This was the problem with relationships in his line of work. You either kept them at arms-length and you’d never be truly happy. The alternative was to risk everything, if she knew who he really was, would she stay? Did he want her to, knowing how vulnerable that made her. He’d already lost so many people. He kept his family safe, his Mum and his sisters. But that didn’t come without it’s own challenges.

“Alma, it’s –”

“Don’t you dare tell me ‘it’s business’. That poor man! Metaltech was a family business, that man’s great grandfather founded it, his son should have inherited it. Now he has nothing, his family have nothing. Is that the sort of business you run? Tearing down family empires, so you can put up another stupid hotel for the obscenely rich, meanwhile over two-hundred people have lost their jobs. You told me not to worry that morning. You told me they’d be well compensated. But there are currently riots on the street outside the factory site, because their livelihood is gone, and they have nothing.”

“What am I supposed to do for them, Alma? It’s not my fault that Mr. Martin failed to properly insure his business. That was his responsibility, as the CEO and owner. As a shareholder, my job was to make sure the company was profiting, and it wasn’t. It had not been for several years. I was assured when I signed the contract with Metaltech that I would see my investment returned in eighteen months, with a thirty percent profit minimum. Not only did I not see the profit, I didn’t even see thirty percent of my investment returned. Do you want to know what return I got from my investment in eighteen months?”

Alma stared at him, waiting for an answer.

“Nothing. Not a penny.”

“Well you should make smarter investments then.”

“Well, as you’ve seen by todays press announcement. It was a very smart investment. Servae’s Docklands Hotel and Spa is going to be my flagship hotel, and based upon profit margins of my existing hotels, even after build costs, I will have my investment in Metaltech returned within the first six months.”

“What about Nigel Martin?”

“What about him?”

“He’s been unavailable for comment. No one has seen him in weeks.”

“Obviously. He’s fucked up. I’d be keeping a low profile too, if I were him.”

“You really don’t care, do you?”

“No. Alma. I don’t.”

What did she want him to say? She knew the truth, so why try and pretend otherwise. There was multiple reasons he didn’t want her involved in his work, but the harsh reality of business deals, meant that yes. He was cold hearted. He wouldn’t have got to where he was by being soft.

“I just wish I’d heard it from you.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“Yes. It would have. I feel like you kept it from me because you knew how I’d feel about it.”

“And if I did?”

“I thought we’d moved past all that. But we haven’t. At all. I don’t know you, I don’t even know what you do, not really. You own some hotels, you have investments all over the world. You own this place,” Alma gestured around, “But what do you actually do, Tom? Because you are a bit too comfortable with lying, and you really lay the charm on thick to avoid me knowing anything of importance about you.”

Tom pressed his lips together, and set down him glass on the side. Then he pushed himself off the sofa and approached Alma warily. She let him cup her cheek with his palm, and kiss her lips gently.

“All you need to know about me, is that I love you,” he murmured against her lips, and pecked again, “And I may be a cold business man, and no…I don’t care about Nigel Martin, his family, or the one hundred and seventy-two men and women who have lost their jobs. But please believe me when I say I care about you. I don’t want to hurt you, which is why I try to keep you out of this. But I can see that’s not going to be possible anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Alma tugged herself out of his grip, “You want me to leave?”

“No…no I don’t,” Tom shook his head, and reached for her again, this time bringing both hands to her face and holding it gently, “Alma, but you might want to, when I tell you this.”

“Tell me what?” Alma’s voice was wary now, eyes wide, and they didn’t leave his.

“I knew Metaltech was failing when I invested. I’m a clever businessman. I have no interest in flight logistics. But I did have an interest in the plot the factory was built upon. Mr. Martin and his team promised me a return of my investment within eighteen months, and thirty percent profit. If they were unable to meet that, it was agreed that the business would be signed over to me, and it would be mine to do what I wished with. Nigel would never have sold the business, but when we looked at the numbers, myself, Ben, and my solicitor. We knew the cost of our investment, and liquidising the company would, in the long run, be far cheaper than trying to negotiate a sale. My investment was not returned, and Mr. Martin and his team failed to keep their end of the deal. He then refused sign over the business. I’m a fair man. He was given a further six months to return my investment only.”

“But you knew he couldn’t,” Alma whispered, realisation was dawning on her.

“I knew he couldn’t,” Tom confirmed.

“So you made it so he had no choice but to sign the business over. You made it so the company was worthless,” there was a tremor in her voice as the final words left her lips, “You burnt it to the ground.”

“You want to know the sort of business I run, Alma? The sort of man I am?” Tom took a deep breath, his grip on Alma’s face tightening, stopping her pulling away from him, as tears filled her eyes, and she became paralysed with fear, “Well, now you know.”

∞

Alma sat in stunned silence in the heated leather seat of the Jag, whilst Tom drove through the streets of London, which despite being the small hours of the morning were still bustling.

He'd not let her out of his sight and she was terrified.

Following his admission to her, they'd both remained silent for several minutes whilst he allowed the news to sink in. A criminal, her boyfriend was a criminal, an arsonist, and god knows what else. And he stood there in front if her, holding her in place, waiting for a reaction. A reaction which didn’t come.

“Can I go?” Alma had asked eventually, trying to sound confident and sure of herself, but her voice shook and her nerves failed her miserably.

“I can't let you leave yet, my love. I’m sorry,” Tom shook his head, despite his words, his tone was surprisingly gentle, “We need to talk properly, but not here. Once we've talked properly, if you still want to leave...of course I’ll let you go. Despite what you must think of me right now...I’m not a complete monster.”

He'd collected his car keys and shut down the lights in his office. Then took Alma's hand in his and lead her out through the corridors, and out the back entrance to the club where his car waited.

Finally the electric gates to Tom's St John’s Wood mansion closed behind them and he lead her into his home, the downstairs automatically filled with a soft light when they walked in. He let go of her hand, and she watched as he set the security system. She'd never watched him do it before, he was fastidious as he tapped away on the wall mounted touch screen. Front gates, basement door, front door, back door, each one locked and alarmed.

“Please would you sit in the lounge for a moment, Alma. I need to make some phone calls. I'll come and get you shortly,” he ushered her into the formal sitting room which he never used. The one with no television and big uncomfortable sofas. Once he was happy that she was seated, he headed to his office. It was the first time he’d let her out of his sight, and she knew it was because now they were inside his home, she couldn’t go anywhere if she tried.

“Alma,” her heart jumped into her throat when Tom’s voice came from behind her several minutes later and she shot off the sofa, “Please, come with me.”

She’d never been in his home office before. It was the only door inside the house that he kept locked. Inside it was sparsely furnished, with just a large mahogany desk taking up most of the room, with a chair on either side, and one built in cupboard on the far wall. The walls were panelled in the same wood as the desk, and bizarrely there were no windows. Atop the desk, there was nothing except for a Apple iPad, in a black leather case.

“Please, sit,” he gestured to one of the chairs, and Alma did as she was told. Tom locked the door behind them, and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk. He picked up the tablet, opened the case and started tapping on the screen. 

“When can I go home, Tom?” Alma asked quietly.

“In due course.”

“Why am I here?”

“Because, darling,” he glanced up, meeting her eyes. His expression was surprisingly soft, almost loving, “I need to trust that you won’t going letting off that pretty little mouth to anyone.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tom had never spoken to her like that before. But instead of answering he turned the iPad and slid it across the table. Her eyes dropped to the screen and she scanned the document he was presenting her with.

“I should have had you sign this from the moment we started seeing one another. It was short-sighted of me. The thing is, Alma, love. I do really think the world of you and I wanted you as far apart from my professional life as possible, because you’re just too good for it. I trusted you were not the type to go mouthing off about me, and my private life. I still want to believe you aren’t that type, yet now you have something to tell, and I’m not at all convinced you won’t.”

“You burnt down a factory, because a guy wouldn’t sign it over to you. I imagine you’d find a way of keeping me quiet quite easily,” there wasn’t as much bite in her tone, as she wanted. Because honestly, right now she was terrified of the man in front of her.

“Well I am hoping it won’t come to that,” he nodded back at the screen, then took a pen from his inside jacket pocket and slid it over to her. She dropped her eyes back to the tablet, and read.

“A non-disclosure agreement?” she asked, incredulous, “You’re worried about me going to the press? I’d imagine that would be the least of your worries. I should be going to the police.”

“Please sign the NDA,” Tom requested calmly, “and when you have done so, I’ll explain why I have no concerns about you notifying the police.”

Tom watched Alma as her head dropped back down to the text in front of her, and she took her time reading thoroughly. Every now and then she’d swipe the screen. A good ten minutes later, she reached for the pen, and signed her name on the screen. She said nothing as she held out the tablet to Tom, and he took it from her. He scanned the document, then tapped a few buttons. Then he closed the leather case and set it back down on the side.

“I am a hotelier, and an entrepreneur, I have many shares, in many profitable businesses, I have my fingers in many pies, some might say. That much is true. But primarily, I’m a fixer. My business is helping others who are in trouble, by whatever means nessisary. I make a lot of money, an…unfathomable amount in the eyes of most, by fixing other people’s problems.”

“You’re a criminal.”

“In the eyes of press, I’m an upstanding businessman.”

“In the eyes of the law, you’d be a criminal, and you should be behind bars.”

“The thing is, Alma. The benefit of my line of work is, I have many friends, in many places. I have an extremely good relationship with the police force, and the countries judicial system. Should you decide that notifying the police of my…activities, is morally your only option, I must make you aware that I have men working on the inside, and your efforts to expose me, would be met with…some resistance.”

“I see,” Alma murmured, and Tom watched as she wrestled internally with what he was telling her. He had nothing to lose now, she’d already asked when she could go home. He had no doubt her mind was made up, and he couldn’t say he blamed her. He wasn’t the man she thought her was, and she was quite clearly terrified of him. That thought made me feel sick, whilst most of the time he counted on being able to use fear to his advantage, he’d never wanted Alma to feel anything other than safe with him.

“Your knowledge…it makes you vulnerable,” Tom continued, and Alma nodded, casting her eyes down to the table, “I can keep you safe, Alma. You don’t want to stay with me, and I understand that, but please know, you won’t come to any danger.”

“Strangely, I don’t feel overly reassured by that.”

“Alma –”

“Please can I leave now, Tom. Because honestly, I’m tired, I’m hurt, and I’m…I’m scared. I’m scared of you, because you’re a completely stranger to me. I don’t want to be here anymore, I don’t want to be with you,” Alma pushed her chair back as she stood and approached the office door, “Please unlock this door.”

Tom stood and did as she asked, but grasped her hand in his, as gently as he could manage, but tight enough to stop her walking away from him, “Alma, it’s almost two o’clock. I can’t let you leave now.”

“Call Jenson,” Alma asked.

“He’s on a job.”

“I’ll get a cab.”

“Please, Alma,” Tom squeezed her hand and his eyes pleaded with her, “I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with me. I respect that you no longer wish to see me, but please, tonight…take one of the guest rooms, and I’ll arrange a car in the morning. First thing, I promise.”

Perhaps he sounded desperate. He was desperate. If she’d allow him nothing else, he needed her to let him ensure her safety, by not letting her make her own way home at two o’clock in the morning.

“Okay,” Alma nodded, after a few seconds hesitation, “I’ll take a guest room, and tomorrow morning, when I ask to leave. You’ll let me go.”

“Of course,” Tom nodded, and Alma turned, heading for the stairs to see herself to the first guest floor.


	10. Chapter Nine

By the time Alma unlocked her front door the following morning she wasn’t even sure how she'd got home. She'd made the journey by underground in somewhat of a daze.

She had barely slept the night before, and at just gone seven o'clock that morning she’d decided she couldn’t sit around any longer. She’d taken herself down to Tom's bedroom, shaken him from a surprisingly deep sleep, and after a moment of disorientation – in which she’d not stopped him when he grasped her hand and pulled it to his mouth, to plant the gentlest of kisses to the inside of her wrist - but when he'd attempted to pull her onto his bed she'd stopped him demanding that he disengage the security system and let her go home.

After a small disagreement, in which Alma refused to wait for Jenson and demanded he unlock the gates so she could make her own way he relented. Though at this point she'd have not been surprised if along the way Jenson or someone else had picked her up and taken her home.

She managed the hour long journey in one piece and collapsed back against the front door when it shut behind her. Her eyes burned with unshed tears and her throat felt constricted. She'd left him.

In the grand scheme of things they’d only been seeing one another for little more than six months. It wasn’t exactly long term was it? Though they had been serious, she'd met his mother, lovely Diana. His sweet sister also, someone Alma was starting to consider a friend. Alma wondered briefly if Diana knew her son was the leader of an organised crime ring. Essentially that’s what he was right? He called himself a fixer, but Alma wasn't stupid. He solved other people’s problems by whatever means necessary. He had associates within the police force and the courts. Thomas Hiddleston was more than just a fixer. Burning Metaltech to the ground was a well thought out and meticulously premeditated act.

Alma may not have been in a position to notify the police, but in good conscience she couldn’t stay with that man. No matter how many times he told her what she meant to him. She couldn’t believe him or trust him. He was everything that was wrong with the world.

It didn’t make leaving him any less painful though.

“Is that you, Al?” Jess’s voice called from the kitchen.

Alma inhaled deeply, and plastered on a brace face, as she headed to find her housemate, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“Oh good, I’m so glad you’re home,” It was clear from Jess’s appearance, that when she’d left work the previous night she’d found herself some company. She wore her old and very loved Arsenal shirt, and nothing else, and yesterday’s make up was just about intact, but slightly smudged around her eyes. Alma was always s jealous of how Jess could be a total wreck and still look incredibly attractive. Her hair was piled on top of her hair in a messy bun, and her long elegant neck was scattered with pink and purple marks, which had most definitely been put there by someone’s mouth, “Coffee?”

“Erm, yeah.” Alma slumped into the wooden chair at the small kitchen table, and rubbed her eyes, feigning tiredness. When Jess came over and placed the big steaming cup of black coffee in front of her, she got a brief hint of a man’s aftershave, a faintly recognisable scent, before being overwhelmed by the welcoming fumes of coffee.

“So, I have news! Remember last night I said I had something really exciting to tell you?” Jess pulled out the chair opposite and sat down, crossing her legs and causing the football shirt to rise up, almost obscenely. This was typical Jess, she didn’t seem to have an ounce of modesty, and Alma had unfortunately been subjected to worse. She focused on her friends face, but couldn’t help wondering if whoever she’d brought home last night was still asleep upstairs, or if Jess had kicked him out before she got home. Alma wasn’t in the mood to deal with strangers in her house.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I completely forgot. What is it?” Alma tried to sound enthusiastic for her friend. If anything, just so her own distress would be less obvious.

“So, you know this new hotel Mr. Hiddleston is building? Up Docklands?”

“Yes,” Alma whispered her response, unprepared to discuss her now ex-boyfriend so soon.

“Well, he wants me to be the bar and restaurant manager!”

“What?” Alma set down her coffee quickly.

“He’s sending me to the Edinburgh hotel next month to start my training, I’ll spend three months there, then he wants me to go to New York, and then come back here to Servae’s Mayfair and continue working there until the new hotel opens, which if all goes to plan with building work, they plan for a Christmas opening, not this Christmas obviously,” Jess rambled on, “He said he wants me trained in all these fancy things, and I’ll be able to recruit my own team…but the best bit… I get an apartment within the hotel!”

“That…that’s…” Alma had no words. Why hadn’t Tom told her this? Had she not given him the opportunity? Had he done this to spite her?

But he’d clearly offered Jess this position before he knew that she’d leave him. Plus, it was an incredible opportunity, a wonderful job.

“You…you’re not mad about me moving out are you? I did say to Mr. Hiddleston, erm… Tom, that you rely on my rent to pay the bills. But he said not to worry about it, that he’d make sure you were okay? But I did ask him not to tell you, because I wanted to tell you myself,” Jess continued.

“No…no I’m not mad,” Alma shook her head, slowly, “I’m really happy for you, lovely.”

“Well, you could bloody try and look it,” Jess scoffed.

“No, no I am,” Alma pushed, and Jess’s face fell.

“Are you alright, Al? You look really pale?”

“Oh yeah…I…I don’t feel very well,” Alma shook her head, “Sorry, I just had a really late night, and feel under the weather. I’m really excited for you, promise.”

“You should go to bed,” Jess eyed her friend with concern, “Did Tom drop you back?”

“Erm, no –”

But Alma stopped dead as she caught sight of a figure coming down the stairs in the hall. A tall man, with dark hair, adjusting the tie of their very well fitted suit.

“Oh, we meet again, lovely Alma,” Ben greeted her as he reached the doorway, then his eyes fell on Jess, a playful smile on his lips, “Morning.”

“Hey,” Jess’s voice dropped to a strangely low, lusty tone, as she stood and slinked into Ben’s arms. She tip-toed up, hanging her arms around his neck, and they kissed for several seconds, whilst Alma looked on in horror.

“Whilst last night was…delightful, I really must be going,” he spoke to Jess, but Alma got a strange feeling his words were being directed at her, “Work to do.”

“No coffee?”

“Not for me,” Ben shook his head, “The wife’s got me on this caffeine free diet.”

“Oh you poor dear,” Jess teased, her fingers played with the dark curls at the nape of his neck.

“Yes, well, you made sure I was quite well looked after last night,” he smirked, and dipped his head to kiss her again. Just then a phone buzzing could he heard, and the scene unfolding was all too familiar to Alma, as Ben pulled away from Jess, and took his phone from his pocket and put it to his ear.

“Ah, Tommy boy…yes…ah…” he turned on the spot and cast his eyes down to Alma, “She is… yes, of course…certainly.”

The conversation was short and abrupt, and Ben placed the phone back in his pocket.

“Well, I’ll be going,” he announced, tearing his eyes from Alma, and shooting one more grin at Jess, before striding down the hall, and she followed in his wake, seeing him out the front door and returning seconds later.

“You’re shagging Ben?” Alma stood up quickly, and hissed the words at Jess before she could even say anything, “Was this before, or after Tom offered you the job.”

“Ugh, after, what do you take me for?” Jess scrunched her nose up.

“He’s married!”

“His wife won’t even suck his cock. Poor man.”

“That’s not the fucking point, Jessica!”

“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal?”

“Well, he’s your new boss for starters! He works for Tom, he’s…he’s…” Alma stopped, what could she say? She couldn’t tell Jess what she knew, “Is it serious?”

“What? No…course not,” Jess snorted, “He’s like double my age, married, with kids.”

“Then why?”

“Because he’s hot,” Jess shrugged, “Because I’ve not had a good shag in a few weeks, unlike some around here who have their legs permanently spread for Mr. Millionaire.”

Alma fell silent, and her eyes dropped to the floor.

“Al?” Jess approached her slowly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that, I know you’re not like that, I’m just a slut, you know, can’t say no to a pretty cock. But…I know Tom’s special to you. He’s not like Ben, I know that.”

“We aren’t together anymore,” Alma mumbled, “So…so it doesn’t matter.”

“What?”

“I broke up with him,” Alma repeated, then looked up to meet her friends concerned gaze, she forced a little smile, “It’s fine. It’s for the best.”

“Don’t you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Alma shook her head and averted her gaze, so couldn’t look at Jess anymore. If she did she might lose it. “I just want a bath…and bed.”

“Okay…” Jess trailed off hesitantly, “Well…I’m here if you need me. You know I love you, Al.”

“I know.”

∞

“I’m fucking shattered, mate. That Jess is a little spitfire,” Ben chuckled, slumping onto his friend and bosses sofa, “Surprised you’ve never had a go.”

“She’s vile,” Tom shook his head, and sipped his beer. He’d not really moved since Alma had left, short of dragging himself to the living room, and helping himself to several bottles of beer. He wore only his boxers, and he knew he could probably do with a shower, “I mean, she’s a nice enough girl. Excellent at her job.”

“Pussy like a wind sock.”

“Maybe you’ve just got a tiny dick.”

“Ouch,” Ben chuckled, “Who crawled up your arse?”

“Alma’s gone.”

“I know mate, she’s at home. Looked shattered, not in a good way. You don’t look great either,” Ben gave his friend a quick sweep, taking in his unusually scruffy appearance.

“She’s left me,” Tom swigged his beer.

Ben remained quiet for a few seconds, letting what Tom was telling him sink in, his eyes widening in realisation, “Fuck, mate. You really love her, don’t you? You…you’re sitting here drowning a broken heart. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“She was getting suspicious. I couldn’t keep lying to her. I love her, and I needed her to know the truth about me. I wanted to share everything with her.”

“She knows?” Ben’s eyes widened almost comically.

“Don’t worry,” Tom waved a hand, dismissively, “She’s a good girl. She won’t say anything.”

“But… What about Jess?”

“What about her?”

“You’ve just offered her a job, I’ve just spent the night in her… incredibly small and uncomfortable bed. What if Alma tells Jessica?”

“She won’t,” Tom screwed up his eyes and tipped his head back against the sofa. “She’s terrified of me. She wants to be as far away from me as possible. She won’t do anything stupid.”

“Mate…I’m…sorry?”

“What was she like, when you saw her?”

“Quiet? I don’t know man, I’ve only met her the once,” Ben shrugged.

“I need you to go back,” Tom’s words were a little slurred, probably from the three beers he’d drunk on an empty stomach, before midday.

“I’ve just left.”

“Not now, but… I need you to keep seeing Jess. Just…keep an eye on Alma. The usual.”

“No way. I’m not going back there.”

“I thought you had a good night.”

“I’m married, a one off shag is one thing, I’m not looking to have an affair,” Ben shook his head.

That hadn’t stopped him in the past. Ben and his wife were lucky if they saw each other more than a couple of times a year, and that was only for the sake of the kids.

“You’re going back,” Tom almost growled the order, “You’ll keep fucking that little slag that Alma has living with her, you’ll do so, and you’ll keep a close eye on Alma. You’ll ensure she behaves herself, and that she’s…safe.”

“Tom…I think the best thing is that we just leave both the girls alone, Alma is clearly a strong willed woman, she’s made up her mind. I know you’re upset, trust me mate, I’ve had my heart broken, I know what you’re going through –”

“You have no idea what I’m going through,” Tom shouted, “The woman I love thinks I’m a monster. She hates me, she can’t stand to look at me. She is…scared of me. All I want is to keep her safe.”

“Fine…fine,” Ben sighed, shaking his head, “I’ll go back. I’ll keep an eye on her.”

∞

“Alma’s a pretty uncommon name, Latin I believe, from the word almus, meaning kind or fostering. Alma Mater – fostering or nurturing mother… am I right?”

“I’m named after my grandmother,” Alma responded to Ben’s musing bluntly, and dropped her attention back to her book.

“Was she Spanish?”

“No, Swedish, actually,” Alma sighed, putting her book down, giving up as she’d not been able to focus all morning.

It had been three weeks since she’d ended with Tom, and whilst he hoped that would be the last of it, she knew it was foolish to think she’d be rid of him that easily. True to his word, he had left her alone, he’d promised that, before she left, she’d asked him not to contact her, and he promised he would not.

But having Ben around on a regular basis was a constant reminder that he was never far away. Alma couldn’t help but wonder if Ben was really here for Jess, or because Tom wanted a close eye kept on her. To make sure she kept up her end of the deal. He’d leave her alone, if she kept her mouth shut.

Though she knew for a fact that Ben and Jess were definitely sleeping together - she had to deal with the headboard banging against her bedroom wall most nights – Ben spent more time when he wasn’t shagging her housemate, talking to her, than he did to Jess. Or at least trying to talk to her.

She couldn’t say she hated him. She tolerated his presence, because she was scared of what might happen if she didn’t. She could only guess Ben’s involvement in Tom’s business, and in her mind that made him as awful as Tom. The only difference being, Ben meant nothing to her. Still it didn’t mean she wanted him in her house.

“Oh, Swedish… Sweden is a beautiful country. Have you been?”

“I…” Alma hesitated, she wasn’t about to tell this man anything about her life. He was nothing to her, and the least she could do was keep something of her own, “No, no I never got the chance.”

“Oh you should,” Alma just looked at him and stood to leave the room. “I apologise, was I bothering you?”

“A little,” Alma responded, honestly.

“How are you, Alma?” She had a feeling Ben knew about her and Tom, though he’d not outwardly mentioned the man he worked for, the way that she constantly felt watched told her the subject wasn’t far from his mind.

“I’m not stupid, Ben,” she hissed, losing her rag. Though she had to keep her voice down, Jess was only in the shower, and could come out at any moment, “I know he sent you here.”

Ben glanced towards the door, then back at Alma, “I don’t think you’re stupid, Alma. Neither does he.”

“This is my home,” she sighed, “Jess is my friend, this isn’t fair on her.”

“I don’t intend to hurt Jessica, she knows where we stand,” Ben admitted.

“She doesn’t know she’s being used. The worst bit is, it’s not even you using her,” Alma rolled her eyes, “Why can’t he let me be?”

“He is, but he promised you safety.”

“How long? I don’t believe I’m in any danger. He’s my biggest threat.”

“You know Tom. When he has his mind set on something,” Ben chuckled.

“So you’ll keep cheating on your wife, just because Tom’s asked you to? Because him wanting to keep tabs on me, is more important than your wife and family?” Alma’s brow furrowed, “That’s fucked up, Ben.”

“You have no idea, Alma.”

∞

“She’s fine, Tommy,” Ben announced, entering the back office at the Emerald Lounge with a flourish, “She’s passed her masters with flying colours. Landed herself a new job. If anything I’d say she’s coping with this break up much better than you are.”

“She passed?” Tom’s eyes lit up, at this news, “Oh, I knew she would, but I’m…so…happy for her.”

“Yes well, Jess starts in Edinburgh next week, so…”

“She’s really okay?” Tom clarified, closing the open laptop in front of him, and turning his focus fully onto Ben.

“Seems it,” Ben nodded, he’d been feeding back to Tom almost daily. He had no doubt for the first weeks Alma’s tight expression, and pale skin pallor was a sure sign that she was constantly putting on a front. He’d told Tom as much. But as the days passed the girls colour returned, and slowly but surely, she started smiling, becoming more and more immune to his presence in her home, “Besides, Jess is losing interest. I’m sure she’s onto me.”

“Well maybe if you talked to her occasionally, instead of just getting you dick wet,” Tom muttered. It hadn’t exactly been a difficult assignment for Ben. But he had done as he’d asked, he’d kept an eye on Alma for him. He couldn’t say that it was easy knowing how well she was coping without him. But he was hardly surprised. She’d been independent before she met him, she was hardly the type to allow something as silly as a break up change that.

Tom on the other hand, had been a mess.

He’d told his Mum that Alma had left him. He’d left out the reason why, ashamedly, he’d lied. He’d told his Mum that she was fed up playing second fiddle to his work. Diana had been heart broken, and his sister Emma had given him the filthiest of glares. They’d loved Alma, of course.

But his Mum had sympathised with him. She’d been the only person he’d outwardly cried in front of. He’d messed up. He never should have let himself get involved with her. He knew it couldn’t last.

His mother however, was a voice of reason. Though perhaps if she knew the full truth she’d feel much the same as Alma felt about him. Just because she didn't want to be with him, it didn't mean he had to stop showing her he cared, if he felt that somewhere deep down she still had feelings for him.

Diana called her son when she found out the date of Alma's graduation ceremony, thanks to some contacts within the University.

“You should go Tom. She doesn’t have anyone else. You said yourself you were proud of her. It might not get her back, but at least she’ll know you care.”

“I'm not sure she’d want me there,” Not sure? Tom knew that if Alma saw him there it would ruin her big day.

“If you don’t go, I will. The poor dear has no real family to speak of. She needs someone there,” Diana pressed.

“It’s difficult, Mum. The press...” that wasn’t a total cop out. He got recognised fairly regularly, and though he wasn’t bothered by the public, he wouldn’t want the press following him to something like Alma’s graduation. That would do the opposite of what his Mum was intending, by encouraging him to support her.

“I’m trying to help you, Thomas.”

The use of his full name meant his Mum was serious, “I will think about it. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea. But I promise you I’ll think about it.”

∞

The flowers which arrived on the morning of her graduation ceremony were from anonymous sender. Alma had started the think, since Jess moved out several weeks ago, and she’d not seen or heard from Ben, that perhaps now she was finally free of Tom for good.

That thought upset her more than she cared to admit.

Despite her hatred for him, she couldn’t deny how much she missed him. She’d not cried, not once. He didn’t deserve her tears. Though she’d lost countless night’s sleep as she processed what had happened over and over again. It had been nearly two months. It shouldn’t take this long to get over a six month relationship. She tried telling herself it was the residual trauma of finding out her boyfriend was a criminal. That gut wrenching dread in the pit of her stomach that somehow her connection with him might lead her into trouble.

But it hadn’t. Except for Ben’s brief presence, her life had gone back to normal. She did sometimes wonder if she was being watched. She thought she saw Jensen’s car once, on her way to work. But she blamed it on tiredness, because when she did a double take it wasn’t there.

The stupidly extravagant bouquet of flowers which took up her tiny kitchen table, could only have come from one man. This was no Interflora order, these had been hand delivered by Baxters, one of the most expensive, and high quality florists in London. Alma only knew this, because Tom would frequently have flowers delivered to her. At least once a fortnight, and almost always from Baxters.

Alma had dressed in her smartest grey cigarette trousers, and cream blouse. She would collect her gown and cap at the University upon arrival. She stood in her kitchen looking at the flowers, unsure what to make of them.

Tom had to know that she would know exactly where they had come from. There was nothing threatening in this gesture, in fact, Alma couldn’t help but feel quite moved that he’d even remembered her graduation. Then it occurred to her that she didn’t even tell him when the ceremony was, only when her results were due. Which meant he’d clearly still been keeping tabs on her. Suddenly she wanted to pick up the entire bouquet and shove it in the wheelie bin on her way out.

She didn’t though.

Because no one else in her life cared enough to even call and wish her congratulations on her achievement.

∞

It was a strange feeling. To have pride for someone else.

Tom wasn’t used to it.

He was obviously proud of his Mum for all she’d overcome with following the stroke, and proud of Emma for how well she looked after his Mum. But that was family, it was different somehow.

But standing in the back of the auditorium, watching as Alma approached the stage, donning her gown and cap, to shake the Deans hand, and collect her masters certificate, Tom was overwhelmed with the pride he felt for his Alma. Or not _his_ Alma, anymore.

She didn’t see him, that was premeditated. He knew if she saw him before the ceremony, or even as she walked onto the stage…well he didn’t know what would happen if she saw him before. Alma was good at containing her emotions. But he knew whatever her reaction, it wouldn’t be a good one.

After the ceremony there were canapés and champagne in a marquee on the lawns outside the main University building. Tom accepted a glass from one of the waiting staff and loitered by the rear exit. He’d lost sight of Alma for a little while, but saw her enter the tent with a small group of other graduates. She had her arm linked with another girl and clasped the tube containing her certificate in her hand. She was smiling and laughing, but when she turned to fetch herself a drink, her smile dropped. He continued watching, unnoticed, as she glanced around the tent, then returned to her friends who had been joined by their families.

She smiled and laughed, and chatted away for a little while, then excused herself from the group, hugging each of her friends. Tom wondered if she was leaving already. But instead she picked up a fresh drink, and started for the back of the marquee, towards him.

Tom considered briefly, making a hasty exit. But as she drew closer, he knew he couldn’t leave without letting her know that she had someone there. Someone who was proud of her. He waited, unmoving, for her to get close enough, then he was in her eye line.

She didn’t notice him for a second, but it was only a second, because it was like her eyes focused in on him and she stopped dead, her lips parting in surprise.

“Alma,” Tom started, taking a couple of steps forward, as slowly and as non-threateningly as he could, to close the space between them. “Hello, love,” he offered a small reassuring smile.

“Hi,” she whispered, and Tom noticed her knuckles turning almost white as they gripped the stem of her champagne flute tightly.

“I don’t mean you any harm, I promise,” Tom assured her, his voice low, but so she could hear, “Mum has contacts at the University, she told me when the ceremony was. I had to see you. I’ll leave now, if you would like me to. But I had to let you know how proud I am of you.”

Alma was quiet for a long moment, but she didn’t take her eyes off him. Then she opened her mouth to speak, but as she did so her eyes welled with tears, much to Tom’s utter horror. He’d only seen her cry the once in their time together, the night before he took her to his Mother’s, because she thought he was ashamed of her. Her bottom lip quivered and she snapped her mouth shut, and shook her head.

“I don’t want you to leave.”

The words left her mouth so quietly, Tom wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly at first. But then she continued, “Thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them, I… I wasn’t sure if your Aunt would make it?”

“No, no she is too busy. They just had a new kitchen fitted or something,” Alma shrugged, and she lifted her hand, the one still holding the scroll, and used the back of it to bat away the couple of tears that had escaped, “It…It means a lot that you came.”

“Listen, Alma. Could I…I completely understand if you don’t want to, but could I take you for dinner this evening? To celebrate your graduation, I think you deserve that. No strings, and it’ll just be the two of us, I promise. I’ll put you in a taxi home after, you’ll be completely safe,” Tom stopped quickly, realising he was rambling away like a nervous teenager.

“I’m sorry, I can’t.”

“I understand.”

“No, I’ve agreed to go down the pub with some of my friends tonight. To celebrate together,” Alma gestured back to the group she had just left.

“Of course,” Tom nodded, understanding.

“I erm. I could do lunch? If you’re not busy now?”

“No, no I’m not busy,” Tom said quickly, unable to stop his eyes lighting up, and a smile turning up his lips. To his relief, Alma did smile back.

“I just need to hand in my gown and cap, then I’ll be ready to go. I’ll be about ten minutes. Are you okay waiting here?” Alma shifted and looked around, as if suddenly realising they were still standing in a busy marquee full of people. Fortunately, due to a lack of media presence, and slightly more casual attire than normal, no one had recognised him so far.

“I’ll be fine. There’s no rush,” Tom assured her, and she nodded once, and glanced around looking for somewhere to deposit her almost empty glass. Tom held out his hand and she handed it to him with a grateful smile, then moved past him and out the exit of the tent.


	11. Chapter Ten

“Is this okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

Alma slipped passed Tom quickly and pulled her own chair out in the small Bistro she’d suggested, only a few minutes from her University. She plucked the menu from the stand in the middle of the table, and opened it before Tom had even sat down.

“Can I get you something to drink?” a waiter approached the table.

“Diet coke,” Alma responded quickly.

“I’ll have the same,” Tom said, and Alma’s eyes darted up to meet his as the waiter nodded and left them. Tom always drank wine when he ate. Even at home. If he was eating a meal, he drank wine.

“You don’t have to not drink, just because I’m not.”

“Actually, I’m trying to cut down a little.”

“Oh?”

“Well, I’d also quite like to keep a clear head.”

Alma nodded slowly, and dropped her eyes back to the menu. She didn’t know what to say. She knew she shouldn’t be here, with Tom. The right thing to do would have been to politely thank him for coming and ask him to leave. But just seeing him there, looking so…like the Tom she thought she knew before.

Her Tom rarely wore suits, only if he’d been working, or at an event. When it was just the two of them it was jeans, like today, or his gym shorts. With a t-shirt or cotton button up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. Today he wore black jeans, not his old ones, these looked newer, and a thin navy jumper, it looked soft, probably cashmere, Alma wanted to reach out and touch his sleeve, to see if it was as soft as it looked.

He’d looked so unthreatening, standing at the back of the tent. He’d not forced his presence on her, and for that she was grateful. It was supposed to be a happy day for her, but seeing all her classmates and colleagues, all there, with their families to cheer them on and show their support in their achievements. It had just reminded Alma how very alone she was in the world.

She’d turned his words from that night over and over in her head. Trying to find some hint of her Tom, he’d been so cold in his actions. Treated her in such a sterile way, up until she demanded to leave. Though he had uttered three words in his office at the club.

‘I Love you’

He’d never said those words before, and even then, she didn’t think he’d meant to say them, they’d just sort of slipped into the sentence without intent. But she’d easily dismissed them, as she had all the other things he’d said in effort to make her understand why he’d not told her. Little as those efforts had been.

He’d not tried to persuade her to stay. The only reason he’d insisted upon her spending the night was to ensure her safety. He’d not fought her decision to leave him at all, and at the time and for the weeks that followed, Alma told herself that’s because it was all an act. He didn’t ‘love’ her, or ‘think the world’ of her. If he could hide something as big as he had from her, he could lie about anything else.

“Here are you drinks,” the waiter set down two large glasses of cola with ice on the table, “Are you both ready to order?”

“I’m not –”

“I am,” Alma cut in, snapping her menu shut, “I’ll have the grilled halloumi salad, please. Oh with some grilled chicken, and a bowl of chips on the side.”

“Of course,” the waiter jotted her order on his pad, and gave her a friendly smile, before turning to Tom, “And you, sir?”

“I’ll have the soup,” Tom held out his menu.

“Certainly sir, anything else?”

“Alma?” Tom asked her.

“Double up on the chips, he says he just wants the soup, but he’ll be eyeing up my chips the minute they hit the table.”

The waiter chuckled and nodded, before leaving them alone, and Tom just looked at her with an amused smile. He wrapped his hand around the glass in front of him, and lifted it, tilting it towards Alma.

“A toast,” Alma automatically lifted her glass and clinked it carefully again his, “To the brilliantly clever, Miss. Alma George, on the presentation of your master’s degree. Congratulations, darling.”

“Thank you.”

“So, what next?”

“I’ve got a job, actually. A good one. An assistant to the curator at the British Museum.”

“That’s amazing, well done. You love it there.”

“I mean, it’s not just me, I’m not the only assistant. There is a team of us, but it’s still a great achievement so early in my career. I’m the youngest on the team, but they were so impressed with my last two placements there, they asked me if I’d be interesting in staying on, but I never expected such a good position,” Alma continued.

“You’ve worked hard, you deserve it,” Tom praised her gently.

Alma sipped her drink, and frowned as she set it back down, “You already knew.”

“I knew you’d been offered a job.”

“I wager you knew more,” Alma bit back, “With your spy practically living under my roof for weeks on end.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You admit it then.”

“I do. I’m not about to hide anything from you, Alma.”

“Makes a change.”

“I just wanted to know you were okay.”

“And that I wasn’t going to go mouthing off.”

“I knew you wouldn’t.”

“How?”

“I just did. I trust you.”

Alma nodded once, and took a deep breath, “He’s very good… Ben, I mean. I like him, weirdly enough.”

“He is a likeable guy,” Tom nodded with a chuckle.

“He interrogates in such a conversational manner, it’s easy to think he’s just being friendly,” Alma explained, “I can see why you’d keep him in your employ. Despite being a complete cad.”

“He’s my best friend,” Tom told her, and Alma didn’t miss the fondness in his voice, “But yes, he is a cad. Though don’t go feeling sorry for his wife, she gives as good as she gets. They love each other dearly, but monogamy does not exist in their world. She lives abroad, in a very nice villa, with her fill of pool boys.”

“Did you go to school together?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, and paused to take a few chugs of his drink. He cleared his throat before continuing, “Ben is actually the son of my very first boss. We hated each other, actually. Well he hated me. When I left Uni I was taken into the employ of a rather large accounting firm. Within a year I was made a partner. It should have been Ben.”

“Oh…that’s…” Alma didn’t know what to think, it was a new story, another part of Tom’s history which she didn’t know. It never occurred to her to ask how he got to where he was now.

“His father had raised him, put him through all the right schools, steered him away from any other path, then I walk in, and it’s like Ben doesn’t even exist anymore. I’m the whiz kid, straight out of Uni, building up the companies client base, making hundreds of thousands of pounds in a very short space of time. But I didn’t like how he treated his son, as you know, I don’t have much tolerance for poor fathers. I took the position, but only to allow me to build my reputation to such, that less than a year later I started my own firm, took ninety percent of Don’s clients with me, and employed Ben as my second in command.”

“You ruined him,” Alma murmured.

“Yes.”

“He deserved it.”

“I believe so, I have no guilty conscience about how I made my way to where I am, or who I helped along the way,” Tom explained, and then Alma understood. He wasn’t just talking about his first job, and the way Ben’s father treated him. He was talking about all of it. Regardless of how he’d done it, even if its illicit in its nature, Tom had no guilt harbouring about his actions because he truly believed he was doing right by someone. A vigilante of sorts.

“I understand why Ben is so loyal to you, now,” Alma started, just as the waiter returned with their food. Tom gave his thanks to the waiter and the conversation, it seemed, was over.

Dinner was not unpleasant, as it turned out. Alma enjoyed the food, and although she didn’t voice as much to Tom, she knew sharing lunch with him, was better than what she would have done otherwise. Which was go home, and fixate on how very alone in the world she was. Whilst most of the time that didn’t bother her, she liked her independence, and was proud of what she’d done without the support of a family. Sometimes it would be nice to have someone cheering her on and sharing her joy.

After lunch they talked for a little more, Alma talked some more about her new job. Tom listened, and smiled, and asked all the right questions. Ones which Alma was enthusiastic to answer, and not prying into any other areas of her life. At no point did Alma feel any pressure from him, or threat. He was just…Tom. It was easy to forget who he really was, and why she’d left him.

Upon leaving the restaurant, Tom kept his promise. He hailed a cab, and gave the driver a twenty pound note. She thanked Tom for lunch, and he thanked her for allowing him to celebrate with her. There was no hug, or attempt at affection. Alma knew she was keeping her guard up, but how could she not? Tom wasn’t her friend.

As the taxi pulled away, Alma had glanced back, only briefly enough to see Tom, standing on the curb, hands in pockets, looking completely and utterly defeated. She regretted looking back instantly, because once the image of Tom looking like that was in her mind she knew that it would be etched into her memory forever.

It was the same look her father had worn every time he looked at her. A look which said so much and so little all at once. That whilst he was so rich in so many ways, he’d lost the one thing which he really truly loved.

It was that thought which plagued on Alma's mind for the rest of the afternoon. Whilst she was at the pub with her friends, that evening her mind kept drifting back to Tom. She tried to drink, but there was something stopping her. That warning voice in her head which told her if she got drunk she'd overdo it because she was bottling up her emotional turmoil.

Her friends knew she’d recently come out of a relationship. They’d not met Tom though. They’d been supportive and understanding but many weeks on, their lives had carried on, whilst Alma was still stuck in the same place she’d been all those weeks ago.

Which is how, at just got eleven thirty that night she found herself in a London Cab pulling up outside the St John’s Wood mansion, hoping Tom was home, and hoping she’d made the right decision.

What if he wasn’t home? Would she just leave, and pretend like she’d never been there? Worse, what if he was home and she’d completely misread his sentiment today at lunch?

She pressed the buzzer at the gate and waited. Weirdly in their time together Alma had never had cause to turn up at Tom's unannounced, she’d always arrived with him, in the car, through the wider gate which was controlled by his phone, or from the tablet inside the house. She assumed the smaller pedestrian gate worked much the same way, though she couldn’t recall Tom ever receiving visitors to his home either. He kept everything behind the gates very separate from the outside world. Now she understood why.

“Alma?” her name came clearly through the intercom. Of course there was a camera, though looking around she couldn’t see where, “Are you okay?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes, push the gate, I’ll meet you at the door,” the line clicked off and the gate buzzed long enough for her to push it open and slip inside the small front courtyard.

She’d just reached the top if the steps when the front door opened a fraction and Tom was there, looking a little out of breath, and dressed in a pair of low slung, burgundy checked pyjama bottoms and a loose fitting black t-shirt. His hair was soft and a bit missed up, and it was clear he'd been relaxing either in bed or in the living room and had needed to run from whichever area of the house to greet her at the door.

“Come in,” he beckoned her through and shut the door quickly behind her. For a moment they both stood in the large downstairs lobby, dimly lit only by the standard lamp just outside the main dining room, “Are you alright, Alma? Has something happened?” Tom asked eventually.

“I can't stop thinking about you.”

∞

Alma’s words melted through Tom, and it was like after weeks of being frozen in a permanently icy state, his heart thawed. It took every part of him not to throw himself at her feet, and beg her not to leave him again.

His breathing quickened as he forced himself to allow her to continue, reminding himself that she could be going anywhere with this. Just because she was admitting that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, it didn’t mean she wanted to go back to him.

But he believed today was the last time he’d ever see her. She’d allowed him to take her for lunch, but she’d been guarded. She’d not encouraged any further contact. Tom believed it was goodbye, and he wasn’t going to push her any further. He’d have done anything to get back in her favour, but he wasn’t about to beg. He was too proud for that, and Alma deserved better.

“It’s been seven weeks, and I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left, and the more I’ve tried, the worse it’s been and I hate myself,” Alma finally continued, as she toed off her brown Chelsea boots, and shrugged off the light weight beige trench coat, and shoved it at Tom. He took it from her in a daze, “You’re infuriating.”

“Alma –”

“No, I’m not finished,” She snapped, “Why can’t I hate you? I should utterly despise you. I should want to be as far away as possible from you. I know only a fraction of what you do, and that should be enough, it is enough, I don’t want to know anymore. I’m scared to know more. I know enough to judge for myself that you…you’re a bad person. But then…then there’s my Tom, my wonderful, lovely, boyfriend, who is sweet, and funny and takes care of me so well. But not just me, I’ve seen how he cares for his Mum and his sisters. Doting on them, making sure they want for nothing and they know how much he loves them. A man like that, a man that worked so hard to prove himself worthy of my love. He couldn’t be the same monster that’s standing in front of me, whose only interests in life are money and power.”

Alma stopped to take breath and Tom honoured her request to stay quiet, at least until he was certain she was finished. He wanted to reach out, to take her into his arms, bury his face into her beautifully unruly blonde curls and never let her go. But he kept his hands tightly wrapped around the coat she’d handed to him upon entering his home.

“Today you were my Tom. But the other Tom, the one that terrifies me because I don’t know what he’s done, and how much exactly he is capable of doing, is still there. I don’t know if I can accept you’re the same person, and if I can…how can I ever…how…agh!” Alma cut herself off with a frustrated shout.

Tom felt helpless as he watched Alma bury her face in her hands, and a choked sob left her lips.

“Alma,” he tried, taking a step closer, but she shook her head. So Tom fell quiet again, only moving enough to finally hang her jacket up on the otherwise empty coat stand by the front door.

“Do you love me?” Alma finally asked dropping her hands and meeting his eye, properly for the first time since she arrived.

“I…I’m not –”

“Because you said you did, once. In your office, I’m not sure if you realised, but you said you loved me,” he hadn’t realised, and it shocked him that such words had slipped so carelessly from his lips. Did he love her? Of course, that was without question. Tom knew little of love, but what he felt for Alma was different, consuming. But he wasn’t about to tell her that, he wasn’t about to tell her he loved her, because admitting it out loud would make it hurt all the more when she turned and left him.

“I can’t say those words.”

“Why?”

“Why do you need to know?”

“Do you think you’re in a position to question me right now, Tom?”

“You’re in my home, in the middle of the night, shouting at me. Telling me that you can’t stop thinking about me, telling me you can’t accept me for who I am. Yet, you expect me to tell you I love you?”

Tom couldn’t help but let his frustration, and pain get the better of him, though his words came out louder and harsher than he wanted and Alma took a step back from him. He immediately regretted his tone, “It’s probably best that…” he trailed off, not wanting to speak his next words, but knowing in his heart, for her, it was for the best, “It’s for the best that you go home. I can call Jenson, or a taxi if you prefer.”

“Are you telling me to leave, because you don’t love me, and you don’t wish to hurt me, or because you’re scared that saying it will make it real, and then I have the power to hurt you.”

Tom hated her intuity, as much as he loved it.

No, that was a lie. There was nothing he hated about her. Even as she stood in front of him, the first person ever to see through the barriers he put up. To read him so very easily and accurately.

“I don’t want to leave, Tom! I never wanted to leave, that’s the fucking problem!” she was shouting now, “I want to stay, here, with you. Because you make me feel so loved, you make me feel whole, and I’ve never felt that before. I’ve always felt so incomplete. Not lonely, I’m used to being alone, that’s been my whole life. So I’ll say it, if you won’t because one of us has to grow a pair. I love you, Tom.”

“Alma…I –”

“I love you, Tom. The Tom I know, but I want to love all of you, and I can’t. Love should be all encompassing. But if you can promise me that’s enough. If you love me back –”

“I love you,” Tom cut in quickly, before she had chance to say anything else, moving forward as he did, and encasing her face between his hands, his fingers combing into her hair, holding her in place, “I love you, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe from the darker side of my life, to prove to you that though you may consider me monstrous, you’ll never come to harm by my hand. I can’t promise to be perfect, you know I have no idea what I’m doing, and I fuck up constantly,” finally, a smile, just a small one appeared on Alma’s lips at his confession, “I can’t promise not to be completely dense sometimes and do the wrong things, but please know you’ll always be safe and always be loved.”

“I don’t expect perfection, Tom,” Alma told him, her voice much gentler, calmer than it had been moments before.

“So you’ll stay?”

“I told you I didn’t want to leave.”

Without another word, Tom smashed his mouth to hers in a rough kiss. A kiss which was loaded with every emotion he'd done an extremely poor job of bottling for the past weeks. She was giving him another chance and he wasn’t about to waste it.

∞

In the passion and haste of getting Alma upstairs and into his bed, to spend many hours showing her in multiple ways exactly how much he worshiped her, he'd forgotten to close the electric black outs over his bedroom windows.

Alma by nature was an early riser and despite being thoroughly exhausted from the previous night’s excursion, the daylight streaming through the gaps in the heavy floor length curtains and filling the vast bedroom, had been enough to rouse her from her slumber. It was Saturday and she had nowhere to be, but the second she woke her mind had been buzzing.

Now she sat with her knees drawn to her chest with the heavy white coverlet from the end of the bed wrapped around her, protecting her nudity, whilst she watched Tom, still apparently in the deepest of sleeps. If he’d been sleeping as poorly as her these past weeks it was hardly surprising.

He lay on his back, head tilted to the left and lips slightly parted, gentle snores audible every few seconds. The duvet was pulled down to his hips, and whilst one hand was under Alma's now unoccupied pillow, the other was spread across his abdomen almost covering it entirely.

He looked gorgeous like this.

Young. Though he was only thirty-two, he had an air about him whilst conscious which made him seem older. Much older. Now though he looked young and carefree, like he didn’t have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

She had so many questions.

Tom’s hand shifted first, the one laying over his belly. His fingers curls and he scratched the pale skin beneath them, then his arm lifted and both hands moved above his head as he stretched out, almost cat like, his face screwing up adorably as his body fought the urge to wake. Alma’s eyes followed his movements, and the way the sheet pulled down dangerously low on his hips, revealing the deep vee, and the scattering of hair just where his manhood began.

“Your eyes are red,” were the first words that left Tom’s lips, and her eyes darted up to meet his, not bothering to hide the fact that she’d been shamelessly checking him out, his eyes were bright, looking bluer than normal as they widened in concern, “Have you been crying? Do you regret –”

“No. No I don’t,” Alma stopped him before he worried himself silly, she offered a reassuring smile, “I stupidly slept in my contacts, I don’t have my glasses here.”

“Oh,” Tom responded, relief clear in his voice, “I have solution, in the bathroom. If it’ll help?”

“It would,” Alma agreed, finally shuffling across the bed, and moving to stand, unashamedly dropping the coverlet and walking around the bed, making sure to shoot Tom a cheeky wink before disappearing into the bathroom. Though when she reappeared moments later, she’d donned a fluffy white robe, a guest robe, which once belonged in the upstairs guest bedroom, however when she’d starting staying regularly in their time together she’d taken it for herself. Tom hadn’t found it within himself to remove it from his ensuite.

“Come back to bed?” Tom asked, when she reappeared, and she nodded, tugging the duvet from his body revealing him fully, and clambering up to straddle his narrow hips, before pulling the sheets back around them. Tom gazed up at her, adoringly. Alma couldn’t help but lean forward and catch his lips in a welcome kiss.

Alma hummed against his lips and a chuckle escaped when she felt his hand slip between them and tug on the tie fastening her robe together. So when she sat back it fell apart and Tom's eyes lit up as they fell on her.

“See something you like?” she teased wiggling her bottom a little. She could already feel him hardening beneath her, and it didn’t take much effect to lift up and shuffle back enough to reach down and grasp his now turgid length, give it a couple of form strokes before sinking down onto him, causing them both to groan in unison. Tom’s hands fell to Alma's hips and held onto her, supporting her and she rode him slowly, lifting and then dropping down again, each time her breath catching and a whimper escaped her lips. Pleasure, but just on the cusp of pain from the deep angle of penetration.

“We can move,” Tom said after a second, noticing Alma's watery eyes, and a little grimace as she ground down in his lap.

“No. I like it,” she assured him.

“Touch yourself, Alma. I want to watch,” at his instruction she straightened her back, moving one hand behind her to Tom's thigh to balance herself as he continued to move her on top of him. His own hips buckling every now and then. She moved her other hand between her thighs and using her index and ring finger she spread herself, giving Tom an explicit view as she used her middle finger to move firm circles on her clit.

“Fuck,” she gasped, not two seconds later, “I’m come....coming.”

It was quick, quicker than either of them were used to, and Tom didn’t let go of her hips, as her back arched and her muscles contracted tightly around him, gripping him almost painfully, as she rode out her climax. Even as her body relaxed and Tom gripped her firmly around the waist and started bucking up into her to find his own release he was still aware of the occasional squeeze as the aftershocks ran through her. Moments later he found his end, with a long, satisfied groan, before carefully lifting Alma, so she could clamber lazily off of him and wrap herself around him. Tom tugged up the duvet to cover them, and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“That was…quick.”

“Hmm,” Alma hummed, and tilted her head up to offer an apologetic smile, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Tom chuckled, “I’m surprised either of us had it in us after last night.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“Are you suggesting I’m old?”

“No, I’m suggesting that generally women have a quicker recovery time than men.”

“I can’t argue there, although I thought I did fairly well last night.”

“You did,” Alma leant up to press her lips to his in a gentle kiss, then sighed loudly and fell back onto the bed, “Can we stay here all day?”

“I’m afraid not, love. I’ve got a meeting this afternoon.”

“It’s a Saturday,” Alma groused, “Call them and tell them you can’t make it. Your girlfriend demands your presence between the sheets.”

“That wouldn’t go down to well with these people I’m afraid,” Tom explained, regretfully, “But I can’t tell you how good it is to hear that again…I’m so lucky.”

“Yeah…” Alma murmured, trailing off and falling silent, “About that.”

At her words, Tom shifted, sitting himself up properly and looking suitable panicked. Alma quickly sorted herself out, reaching for the discarded robe to cover herself up.

“You’ve not…changed your mind?”

“No. I’ve not,” she shook her head, “I do have questions though. I need to be informed. Whilst I don’t want any involvement in whatever you do…I need to know stuff. I trust, after everything, you will answer for me, truthfully?

“I…can try. I mean, of course I’ll answer truthfully, if I can answer at all,” Tom clarified, “Now? Or shall we get up, I can make some breakfast, I think I’ve got some eggs, maybe some mushrooms?”

“It’s almost lunch, I’ll get something on my way home.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No it’s fine. I’d rather make my own way.”

“I’d prefer you allow me to drive you, or at least –”

“You’re not calling Jenson.”

“You like Jenson.”

“I’d rather not have any association with your employees. Even your driver. At least for now, we’re back together but this isn’t a quick fix, Tom. I love you, I can’t help that, and I believe you’re worth what risks I’m taking, but don’t make the mistake of thinking I trust you. That’s going to take a bit longer, and you answering whatever I need to know…well in hindsight I probably should have asked everything I wanted to know before jumping back into your bed, but hindsight is a wonderful thing,” Alma let out a mirthful laugh, then noticed Tom’s still concerned expression, “I don’t regret it, I promise, it’s just… I thought with my heart, not my head.”

“What do you need to know?”

“So much, I’ll probably be asking you questions all the time. But…I suppose to start with. I need to know where I am in your hierarchy of importance. You say you love me, and you clearly love your family too. But I knew before I’d always play second fiddle to your job, now I know exactly how much is at stake… how far will you go for me? If you ever need to make a choice, where do I come?”

“I’m in too deep to ever get out of what I do,” Tom started with no hesitation, “I should hope I never have to make that sort of choice, though my work is unpredictable, and often unsafe. Whilst I have many allies, I also have many enemies. I keep those I love at arms-length to keep them safe. My mother, and my sisters live comfortably, but far enough detached not to come to any harm. They’re under twenty-four hour surveillance. Their safety is my number one priority. In my… hierarchy, as you put it, you’re up there, with my family. Whilst I cannot, and nor do I want to stick you in a remote cottage and hide you from the world, I can promise your safety is paramount to me. I have enemies and the more people I allow into my life, the more weaknesses I have.”

“You’d choose your current lifestyle. Because to choose me puts my at more risk?”

Tom simply nodded.

“Do they know? Does your Mum know?”

“No,” Tom responded quick as lightening, “She doesn’t know, and I’ve worked hard to ensure it stays that way. I think the truth would kill her.”

“Okay, well it’s good I know that,” Alma nodded quickly, “Your Mum thinks you’re a saint. Best not ruin that for her.”

“Sarah knows,” Tom admitted, and cast his eyes downward, “She hates me. She wanted to tell Mum and Emma. It’s been hard. That’s why she lives in India, she said she couldn’t be in a room with me and pretend nothing had changed. She’d always wanted to live abroad, so I came to an arrangement with her. As long as she had a job, and a home, and if she visited, I promised I wouldn’t be there, she would keep quiet. She’s safer where she is, and she’s happy.”

“She manages your Dubai hotel,” Alma remembered Diana telling her the first time they’d met, “That must be difficult.”

“I love her. She might hate me, but she’s still my sister, I just want her safe and happy.”

“Is that why you offered Jess a job at the hotel? To get her out the way, in case I said anything?”

“Not at all. I’d wanted to move Jessica up for a while, but she was never going to better herself under Brie’s management. She’s an excellent bar manager, and she’ll excel in the hotel industry. I’d have told you myself, but she insisted she broke the news to you. She was very concerned about how you’d manage the upkeep of the house. I trust you’re managing alright? I assured her I wouldn’t allow you to struggle.”

“No, I’m not struggling. I have my own money. I might not be a billionaire like you, but I have a good job, and I’m lucky enough not to have a mortgage,” Alma didn’t mention the additional income from her Dad’s Army Pension, she assumed Tom would already know this. If he didn’t, that was her business. All he needed to know was that she’d never depend financially on him.

“I promise you, I offered Jess that job because she deserved it. It had nothing to do with you.”

“I believe you,” Alma decided as she said the words. Because really she had no other choice.

“I know it’s a lot to take in…all of me, my life,” Tom’s fingers stroked through Alma’s hair, and he leant in to brush his lips over hers, “I understand if you need time, or space, to get your head around anything.”

“I’ve don’t nothing but try and get my head around things for the best part of two months, Tom. I love you, I’ve made my choice. Nothing you tell me now is going to make me leave.”


	12. Chapter Eleven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay in updates, but thank you so much to everyone whose left lovely comments and I'm glad you're enjoying the story. 
> 
> Honestly, I've been having a bit of trouble keeping up with this, and it's not because the ideas aren't there. This had been in my head for such a long time, but getting it down is harder than I thought. 
> 
> But I'll keep going no matter how long it takes. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“I was thinking of getting a dog.”

“Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want a dog in my house, besides, it’s not fair with you being out at work all day, it would probably crap all over the place.”

“Jenson could check in on him. It’s not like he’s got much else to do, except wait for your next instruction.”

“Aside from the fact that I don’t think he’d appreciate that particular assignment. He’s far busier than you think,” Tom laughed at Alma’s suggestion, and could almost picture the pout on her face, “What’s brought all this on, you’ve never mentioned this before?”

“I don’t know. I’m just…lonely I guess. I miss you, and I know you said I could stay at yours, but I don’t like being in that great big house all on my own. You’re away more than you’re home right now, and Jess was always about before. I think a dog would be good for me,” Alma explained, as she drew her knees to her chest and tugged up the blanket which had been tangled over her feet earlier in the evening. She pulled the soft knit up the her chin, “How long until you come home?”

“That’s actually why I called. I’ll be home Monday night.”

“Really?” the word burst from her lips. Tom had been travelling on business for almost three weeks. It was by far the longest they’d been apart since their reunion. It was actually unusual for Tom to leave the country, certainly not for longer than one or two days. It was a rarity if he left London. The city was his domain and where most of his business took place, either from the club if he was seeing clients, or from his home office. He never took meetings or entertained business associates at his hotels. Alma had learnt that he generally kept the running of his high end chain of hotels separate to everything else he did, and he had very little to do with their day to day management. He owned them, but that was about as far as it went. In fact the hotels was more Ben’s domain from what she understood.

But sometimes, Tom did have to show his face and attend meetings which took him further afield. He’d spent a week in Dubai, which he’d not been looking forward to, from there he’d travelled to several events he’d been invited to. Milan and Paris were for fashion shows, something he told Alma he only did to keep good relations with various designers he used on a regular basis. Then finally he’d gone to New York for an indeterminate amount of time, to discuss some business which he’d not disclosed with Alma, so she’d not asked.

“Yes, really,” Tom assured her, “Probably early evening, I’ve got some meetings at the club when I get back, so I’ll need to go straight there. But if I send Jenson for you around seven?”

“Okay, want me to pick anything up?”

“Gina will stock up for me,” Gina was his house keeper. Apparently she’d worked for him for many years, but Alma had only seen her on a couple of occasions. She was an older woman, and Alma wasn’t sure when she actually worked, but she always kept Tom’s cupboards well stocked, and the house spotless. The laundry was always up to date. She figured that’s why Tom had kept her around, he valued discreteness in his staff. Though Alma had been horrified to once find a very naughty set of lingerie, she’d worn for Tom - which included crotchless knickers, and a peephole bra – freshly laundered and folded neatly on top of the counter in Tom’s walk in wardrobe.

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Can’t wait to see you either. I’ve got you something. A present.”

“Yeah?” Generally, Alma hated Tom spoiling her, but he liked to do so on occasion. Especially when they’d spent some time apart. So she humoured him.

“Yes. I think it’ll suit you nicely. Something I picked up in a little boutique here in New York, which I think you’d love.”

“Is this something I can wear in public, or is it for your eyes only.”

“Oh darling. I’d be positivity livid if anyone else were to see you wearing this daring little number,” Tom’s voice dropped to a dangerously low timbre and Alma felt a familiar tinging in the pit of her tummy. She parted her lips to respond, but nothing more than a small whimper escaped, and she felt her cheeks heat. Tom chortled softly on the other end.

“Tease.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way.”

“True,” Alma sighed loudly, “Monday can’t come soon enough.”

“I’m already wishing the days away my love,” Tom assured her, the gentle loving tone had returned to his voice, “I really ought to let you sleep, it’s late there, and you have work tomorrow.”

“Alright. Love you,” Alma returned as she stifled a yawn with the back of her hand.

“Love you too, Alma. See you Monday.”

∞

“Sir?”

Jenson stopped behind Tom on the top step of his home, as he unlocked and pushed open his front door. As he stepped inside, he stopped dead, and that’s what had given the driver pause.

Tom knew something was off. His security system did not emit those familiar sharp steady bleeps as he let himself into his house. He frowned, the hallway was dimly lit by the uplighters on the walls, which worked on a timer. He beckoned Jenson inside silently. His employee hauled his suitcase through the door and set it down as quietly as possible, whilst Tom closed the front door carefully, and turned his eye to his security system. He tapped the screen once, and his suspicions were confirmed. It had been deactivated.

It had been a terrible day, in which nothing had quite on to plan, and he was already much later home than he’d anticipated. He’d shot Alma a text telling her Jenson would be late, and if she wanted to wait until tomorrow he’d understand.

A horrible turbulent flight which landed in the early morning, followed by a drive out of the city to meet with a troublesome client. Unfortunately, said client had come with back up, which whilst Tom always came prepared, the outcome had not been ideal, and it had left him with a nasty taste in his mouth.

A business deal had gone sour and these people did not like Tom’s way of working. They wanted him and his men out the picture, but they still owed Tom money. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted him dead, and although a score had been settled, albeit brutally, that afternoon, it now occurred to Tom that maybe that meeting had just been a huge distraction.

Someone was in his home.

He tilted his head at the wall mounted tablet, indicating to Jenson, then reached into his jacket and retrieved his handgun from its holster. Jenson nodded in understanding, and mimicked his boss, taking his own gun from its hiding place.

Tom cocked his gun upwards, indicating Jenson should take the upper levels, whilst Tom took the first, ground and basement. Jenson stealthily vanished upstairs, and Tom took the safety off and started in the darkened sitting room, and dining room, finding them both safe. He crept along the hall and carefully checked his office door finding it still secure.

Then he heard a noise, a clatter which sounded like something being dropped coming from downstairs. He darted silently across to the staircase and peered down. He could see the timed lights filling the living area, but couldn’t see any movement. So slowly, but carefully he edged his way downstairs, wincing as he shifted his body awkwardly.

He’d not come away from the days liaison unscathed. He’d not had chance to fully catalogue his injuries, and whilst he was certain nothing was broken, he knew beneath his Tom Ford three piece, he’d have a fair amount of unsightly bruising.

Reaching the bottom step Tom held his breath. A scrape of feet moving across his tiled floor, he readied himself to catch his intruder.

Tom counted to three in his head, aimed his gun and swung around the bottom step into his kitchen.

Several things happened in that moment.

A huge crashed filled the air, as a piping hot Pyrex dish hit the floor, its contents covering the marble tiles, the kitchen cupboards and the person who’d dropped it.

This was followed not even a second later by Alma’s shrill scream, at the shocking sight of her boyfriend, suit dishevelled, split lip and bruised cheekbone, pointing a gun directly at her.

Without a moment’s hesitation Tom dropped his aim, putting the safety on, and rushing forward to his girlfriend, setting the weapon on the kitchen counter, he swept the traumatised woman into his arms.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry,” he murmured into her hair, holding her tightly, as she shook, sobs wrecking her body.

“I…I…” Alma tried to force words out, but nothing came.

“Shush, shush,” Tom hushed her, as he continued to hold her fast to his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her, attempting to make he feel as safe as possible, as he silently chastised himself for being such an idiot.

Of course it was Alma.

He’d given her an access code to his security system and told her she could stay at his house whilst he was away. He’d have only had to check the security log on his phone to know that.

What had he done? Months of regaining her trust, and making her feel safe. Then he’d gone and pulled a gun on her like a maniac. Alma was not someone who scared easy, so to be the cause of having her shaking in his arms, struggling to regulate her breathing, made Tom feel nothing short of monstrous.

“Sir, is everything alright?” Alma let out a second high pitched shriek, and attempted to tug away from Tom, as Jenson reached the bottom of the stairs. His face etched with concern and he raised his hands – one still holding his own weapon – to the air, to show he wasn’t a threat. This did little to calm Alma.

“It’s fine, Jenson. It was just Alma. She’s rather shaken. If you wouldn’t mind helping me clear up this mess, I’m just going to get her settled with a brandy,” Tom said calmly, as he gently took his girlfriend back into his arms, and lead her carefully around the mess of hot foot and smashed glass at their feet, not minding his own shoes crunching in the mess to save Alma’s feet. He settled her on the sofa, and took in her pale appearance, “I’m just going to fetch you a drink, will you be alright for a moment?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

As quick as he could, Tom ran to his bar and poured a large measure of his best brandy, then thought to pour one for himself and Jenson – he really depended on that man more than one would a standard driver. Then he hurried back upstairs, where Jenson was just wiping down the remnants of the mess with a wet cloth and Alma remained unmoved.

“For your trouble,” Tom murmured, setting the tumbler down on the worktop by Jenson who thanked him with a short nod. Then Tom was back at Alma's side pushing a glass into her hands.

“What the fuck, Tom?” she croaked, not drinking the brandy, but setting the glass down on the coffee table in front of them, “What’s happened? Why did you have a gun?”

It wasn’t like she was ignorant to the fact that Tom owned fire arms, or knew how to use them. Part of her birthday present, after a great morning at Go Ape, swinging from the trees, was an afternoon at a shooting range. It had been fun, though there was always an ulterior motive with Tom and she had now doubt he wanted some assurance that she knew how to handle a hand gun, should the need ever arise. But she’d never seen him holding one outside of that context and the look in his eyes as he'd appeared around that corner, ready to fire at an intruder was not one she recognised.

“It’s been an awful day, love. I saw the security system down and I jumped to the worst possible conclusion.”

“I wanted to surprise you. I made lasagne. I thought you’d know it was me.”

“I’m an idiot, I’ve been so worked up –,”

“Sir? Sorry to interrupt,” Jenson appeared at the end of the sofa, giving Alma and apologetic smile, but addressing his boss, “Thank you for the drink, but I’ll be off, if there’s nothing else?”

“Not at all,” Tom nodded quickly, and pulled back from Alma, moving to stand, “You’ll be alright a moment, love? I just need to see Jenson out, and rearm the security system.”

She nodded.

“Oh, Miss. George,” Jenson addressed her, and her eyes met his. He was generally a man of little words. Brief greetings was usually as far as their interaction went, “I want to apologise for giving you a fright. I hope you’re alright?”

“I’ll be fine, thank you Jenson. Drive safe.”

He nodded once, and allowed Tom to see him out.

When Tom returned to the lounge area a few minutes later, Alma had curled herself up and was sipping the brandy.

“Alma, sweetheart. I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

“I think I should be asking you that,” she shot back, her eyes scanning his form as he sat next to her once more, “Have you looked in a mirror, Tom? You look…awful.”

“It’s not been a good day, a deal went south, and unfortunately the client was a little more prepared than I’d given them credit for.”

“You’re hurt,” Alma set her glass down quickly, and reached for him, “I know you’d never hurt me, you’d never have done what you did unless something had shaken you. Come here.”

Tom edged closer and she touched his cheek carefully, checking the pink and blue bruising that had bloomed across it. He winced at her light touch.

“It’s just a few bruises.”

“Have you put ice on it? You really should, it’ll swell,” Alma went to stand, but Tom grabbed her wrist stopping her with a shake of his head.

“I’m fine, love. I’m more worried about you.”

“But Tom,” she started again, reaching to touch his split lip as carefully as she could, then running her fingertips down his neck to his collar, and then his lapels pulling at his jacket to assess any further injury, her eyes widened, “You’re bleeding!”

“What?” Tom frowned, looking down and catching sight of the blood splatter across his white shirt. He’d intended to strip and dispose of his clothes prior to seeing her. Unfortunately that hadn’t quite gone to plan. He tried to stop her as she tugged at his buttons, undoing his waist coat, but she batted him away, and then undid his shirt so she could check beneath for the source of the bleed, “No, Alma, it’s fine, it’s not –”

“Oh,” Alma stopped, as she took in his bared flesh. There was some nasty bruising up one side, and a foot print across his stomach. But no open wound, “Where?”

“It’s not my blood, Alma,” Tom explained away her confusion, and her eyes widened, “I had to protect myself and my men. We were ambushed.”

“Who?”

“It doesn’t matter who,” Tom shook his head, and Alma pursed her lips. She didn’t like the sound of that, “All that matters is that they were not good people. They were a threat to me and my business and they’ve now been dealt with.”

“Are they dead?” Alma gulped, she already knew the answer. But confirmation from Tom’s mouth might make it easier to stomach.

“It was us or them, Alma,” Tom tried to excuse his actions, but Alma couldn’t hide the horror on her face as she realised what her boyfriend was truly capable of. The types of people he was connected with.

“Are…are you safe? You won’t…get caught?” she dropped her eyes back to his torso and reached out, smoothing a warm palm over his bruised ribs. What if she’d lost him? She wouldn’t have ever known what had happened to him. He’d have just…disappeared. Like she was certain whoever it was that Tom had ‘Taken care of’ had. Just vanished off the face of the earth.

“I’m safe, Alma. No one’s going to come banging on my door. I can promise you.”

“You talk like this isn’t your first rodeo,” she tried to joke, but Tom’s eyes locked on hers. His shoulders squared and he gave her a very serious look.

“It’s not.”

Alma was quiet for a few beats as she let that sink in. He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t already know. Not really. She could continue to try and ignore what her boyfriend – the man she loved – truly was, but that wasn’t going to work forever. She’d made a choice to be with him, despite of that knowledge, it was about time she came to terms with it, and accepted it. He’d promised to keep her safe, he’d not broken than promise, except for the one incident, not half an hour before when he’d pulled a gun on her. But he’d not fired, and he wouldn’t have, not unless he’d turned that corner to find a real threat. It had simply scared her.

“I know,” she nodded finally, and leant in, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’ll run you a bath, then order some food, lasagne’s off the menu.”

“I’m so sorry,” Tom repeated for the countless time.

“I know, it’s fine. Maybe put that thing away though,” as they stood, she waved over to the kitchen counter where his hand gun still lay where Tom had hastily discarded it.

“Of course,” he picked it up double checked the safety, and tucked it into his jacket. Alma stared at him, perturbed by how casually he’d done it, as if handling firearms came second nature to him. How often was he packing? How many times in her company had he had a gun stashed into his belt, or jacket?

A little while later Tom sat in the deep bath Alma had prepared for him. The hot water was surprisingly soothing on his aching muscles, and he carefully washed the grime from his body. He was in more of a state than he’d realised and when he’d looked in the bathroom mirror he’d had quite a shock. No wonder poor Alma had reacted so badly. He must have looked like a madman.

“I’ve ordered pizza from your approved list,” Alma said from the doorway of his ensuite bathroom. He dropped his head and released a breathy puff of laughter. His ‘approved' list of take away restaurants. Simply the ones he deemed good enough to eat from as he was unashamed food snob. But Alma had asked no so long ago when ordering a curry and he'd been very specific which restaurant they needed to order from, if it was on his list because it was least likely to slip arsenic into his Beef Madras?

She'd been joking and he'd laughed. But also she was closer to the truth than she realised. He didn’t for a second think any London eatery was about to poison him. But there were certainly establishments he'd built a relationship with and trusted more to handle and deliver his food.

“Extra jalapenos?”

“And a barbeque base,” Alma answered stepping into the room, “Want me to do your back and shoulders?”

“Would you?” Tom looked over at her, flashing her a grateful smile, and held out the wash cloth. Alma took it from his hands and knelt next to the tub. She grabbed the bottle of body wash from the side. It always surprised that that despite his expensive taste, Tom's bathroom products were not all that fancy. A bottle of Original Source mango was his current choice. She dunked the cloth into the water and soaped it up before as carefully as she could, running it over Tom's shoulders.

He was deceptively broad. Whilst his height carried him and he always appeared slight, sometimes a little too thin (in Alma's opinion). Beneath his clothes Tom was much leaner than he looked. He had a trim waist but he was solid muscle under his pale skin. He had a lovely body, definitely not the type Alma would have been drawn to before she'd met him. Then she'd never much gone for body shape or looks. It had always been a personality thing. Perhaps because of her studies and training, she naturally looked at what was beneath someone’s exterior.

Tom had so much depth. There was so much more to him that met the eye.

“I love you so much,” Tom murmured after several minutes of nothing but the sound of the water sploshing as Alma rinsed the suds from his skin.

“Love you too, Tom,” she sighed and rung out the cloth, “Just try not to scare me like this again. Not just the gun...this,” she gestured at the bruising which had managed to come out even more in the warm water, “I hate seeing you like this. You could have been killed. Who will be here to look after me if you go getting yourself hurt or worse?”

“Alma, I promised...” but Tom couldn’t continue, his sentence trailed off. He dropped his head, and brought his hands up to cover his face.

He promised he’d always keep her safe. That’s why she trusted him, and why she was still with him, in spite of everything else. But if today proved anything at all, it was that he was more a danger to her than anything. Be that by pulling out a gun on her, or by not being there to protect her at time when she needed him to. She was right. What if he and his men hadn’t got the upper hand today? He’d taken a pretty heavy beating, and it could have been much worse.

“Tom?” Alma urged him softly. He dropped his hands, and reluctantly looked at her. She was so…beautiful. Her wild blonde curls, and her plump pink lips. Her round gold rimmed glasses rested on her rosy cheeks, and behind them her amber eyes, wide and full of concern, “Are you…crying?”

“I’m sorry,” he hid his face once more, pressing his palms to his eyes trying to stem the flow of tears. What the fuck was wrong with him? Before he met Alma he couldn’t remember crying since he was a child. Even when his Mum was taken ill and he thought he was going to lose her, and not when Sarah told him she wished they weren’t related and as far as she was concerned he was no longer her brother. They’d both hurt, in very different ways, and both times he’d been completely and utterly destroyed. But he’d not shed a tear, he’d put on a brave face.

A year ago, when he thought he’d lost Alma for good, he’d cried. Not in front of anyone, but when he’d been alone, he’d cried his heart out. He’d sobbed into his pillow until his head hurt, and he’d almost made himself sick. He’d cried until he passed out.

And now, here he was unable to control his tears once more, and it was all because of Alma. Because he knew there was no way he could ever keep his promise to keep her safe, not forever. And that meant eventually, maybe not tonight, but one day in the future she would leave him, and that would be the right thing for her to do. When that day came he wouldn’t be able to stop her, he wouldn’t stop her.

Alma’s fingers combed through his short wet curls, and she reached for his hands, gripping one wrist so she could tug it away from his face, “Talk to me, baby.”

The corner of Tom’s lip twitched, “You never call me baby.”

“It felt like a baby moment.”

“Want to get in? The waters lovely,” Tom finally dropped his other hand and splashed the water lightly. Alma’s lips curved upwards and she let go of him, drawing herself up to her feet, she pulled her dress up and off, dropping it to the tiled floor. Her bra quickly followed, then her tights and knickers, until she was completely naked and climbing into the huge tub with her boyfriend. He manoeuvred her so she sat between his thighs with her back pressed to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, and she covered his hands with her own.

“I know I should probably be more freaked out than I am,” Alma started, tilting her head back so she could see his face, “A year ago I’d have been running for the hills, aren’t you proud of me?”

Alma smiled cheekily, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“I’m not sure if I should be,” Tom admitted, dipping his head to brush his lips over her shoulder, “You’re amazing, Alma, and I wish you were freaked out. Freaked out would be the normal reaction right now. But I’m the one whose freaked out, because this is what I’ve done to you. I’ve made you think this is normal, and it’s not normal. Nothing about my life is normal, and you deserve so much better.”

“That’s not true,” Alma squirmed in his hold, turning around so she could see him properly, “I mean, you’re right, this isn’t normal. Not by a long shot. But how can you say I deserve better? I love you, Tom. Who could deserve me more than the man I love? You look after me so well, I know, you know I don’t need looking after, but you still do. And you just…know what I need.”

“What if I can’t keep my promise? What if I can’t always keep you safe?”

“You’ll find a way,” Alma murmured, turning back and resting his back against his chest once more. She picked up his hands and placed them over her chest, so her breasts were partially encased within his palms, “I trust you, Tom.”

She trusted him.

He’d waited so long to hear those words from her lips. She told him she loved him all the time, but trust was something different and the two were not mutually exclusive. Alma had a small world, and she was careful about who she let in, and he’d damaged her trust early on.

Tom’s fingers flexed beneath hers and he massaged her breasts gently, his hands sliding over them easily from the assistance of the soapy water, “I’ve missed you, Alma. This isn’t how I wanted tonight to go. Let me make it up to you.”

“Please,” Alma whimpered as his fingers plucked a nipple, and she reached up, grasping his hand and pushing it down her body between her thighs. He cupped her sex beneath the water.

“What do you need, darling?”

“Your fingers, Tom. I want you to make me come on your fingers.”

“Well…as you asked so nicely.”


	13. Chapter Twelve

Green.

Orange.

Yellow.

Blue. A clear blue sky contrasting against the fields on the ground in all their stunning beauty. Alma couldn’t see a thing for miles, except countryside, and the grey road ahead, disappearing between the rolling hills.

It was stunning, and other than the occasional short trips into the more rural areas of Oxfordshire to visit Diana, Alma couldn’t remember the last time she’d been anywhere so remote. She’d always lived in towns, or busy communities. She’d spent her childhood in Army accommodations provided to her father, attending the schools in these communities, and never far from a busy town. Then once her father died, she’d moved to London, where she stayed with her Aunt.

Trips to the country or the coast were always a treat growing up, and she had fond memories of holidays with her Aunt and Uncle. Something she must have mentioned to Tom at some point, because when he’d asked her to put in a holiday request at work so he could take her away, they didn’t head towards the airport like she’d been expecting.

Tom had told her to pack for good weather, and not to forget her bikini. So Alma was a little surprised when after an hour or so in the car she realised they weren’t actually leaving the country. Instead they were heading south west, away from London. Whilst surprised, Alma wasn’t disappointed. This holiday was not about where they were going, it was just about being together.

It was a celebration of sorts. Whilst they’d been together almost two years and that in its self, deserved recognition, Alma had recently received a promotion after many months of hard work and extra hours, sometimes working at the museum late into the night. She was now a fully-fledged curator and had her own department and team. Tom insisted she deserved a holiday, and finally he was in a position to take himself away from business for a little while.

But Tom had kept extremely tight lipped about where he intended to whisk her away to. Regardless, Alma was excited because despite almost two years together this would be their first holiday, and whilst they spent a lot of time together, it was still often interrupted, and work was never far from Tom’s mind. She would finally have him completely to herself, he’d even promised to turn off his phone for the duration of their stay.

“This is stunning,” Alma breathed, tilting her Rayban’s from her eyes and looking round to Tom, who had his eyes firmly focused on the road ahead, “Is it much further?”

“No, not far now at all,” he reached over picking up one hand which rested in her lap and lacing his fingers with hers.

“Is…is that the sea?” Alma asked suddenly, when she turned back and saw something very blue and sparkling come into sight between a dip in the hills. It wasn’t far at away at all, and Tom just smiled and said nothing as the car continued its journey. Alma lost sight of the glistening blue in the distance briefly as the car turned by some trees and started a fairly steep incline, but when they reached the summit, Alma gasped, loudly.

In front of them, for a far as she could see, was glittering blue water along a stretch of coast. It was breath-taking. As they began their decent, Alma could see along the coastline, clusters of buildings and small towns. Dotted here and there along the country roads were cottages, and every now and then a pub, or a row of houses and a shop or post office.

She’d paid attention to the road signs en-route and knew Tom was taking her towards the West Country, but having never visited herself she had no idea where abouts they were heading, or how close to the sea they’d actually be.

“Cornwall,” Tom said, finally revealing their location.

“I…I’ve never been,” Alma stated in awe, “It looks like… well that coastline looks like it belongs on another continent entirely. But this…this countryside is gorgeous. It’s all just so…pretty!”

“I knew you’d like it,” Tom chuckled.

“We’re staying here?” Alma clarified, not quite able to get her head around what she was seeing. This was so…un-Tom. Tom liked a life of luxury, and whilst in Alma’s eyes Cornwall seemed nothing short of luxurious, Tom always seemed like more of a city boy, and if he was about to go lounging about in the sun, it would likely be in some fancy exclusive resort in Bali or Mexico.

“We are staying here,” Tom nodded, and gave her a sideways glance, “Is that agreeable?”

“It is, I’m just…surprised,” Alma admitted, and continued enjoying the scenery. Tom stayed quiet, as he had been for the latter part of the journey. He seemed a little…nervous.

Alma expected them to head into a more suburban area, where there might be a hotel, but instead they continued along the country roads, passing by the small but bustling tourist traps, but following the coast until it became more rural once more, and they began climbing hills with picturesque white cliffs dropping to the deserted beaches below. Eventually, after passing through an area of thick trees, they drove into the open sun again and Alma caught site of a building in the distance.

The car slowed and eventually Tom pulled into a short dirt track and parked the car by a low wrought iron gate, not quite closed, flagged by a stone wall which surrounded a small whitewash cottage on top of a hill. It was like something off of a postcard.

“Here we are,” Tom announced, slipping off his sun glasses and giving Alma a tentative smile.

“Really?” Alma asked, eyes wide.

“Yes…is it okay?”

“It’s…it…is it just us?”

“Yes, love. Just us. The nearest town is about a ten minute drive inland. Or a thirty minute walk if you’re feeling energetic.”

“It’s…perfect!”

Tom practically beamed, and jumped out of the car, and ran around to the passenger side to let Alma out. He encouraged her to head on up the little cobblestone path, whilst he fetched their bags from the car.

The gate creaked loudly. Alright, so it was definitely no exclusive resort. As she approached she noticed that actually, as pretty as it was, this place was very old, and a little scruffy. But the garden area surrounding the property, plain though it was, nothing more than grass and a few shrubs, was neatly trimmed and the cottage still looked extremely appealing.

Alma walked along the side a bit and peered through one of the windows, holding her hands to block out the light so she could peer into the darkened room. She could see a decent size kitchen, in the centre a table.

The scrape of footsteps behind her alerted her that Tom had finally hauled their cases to the top of the hill. She turned to see him set the bags down and reach into his pocket. He withdrew a set of keys and stepped up to the heavy wood front door, fiddling about a bit with the keys until it clicked and he was able to push it open.

“After you, love,” Tom held out and arm and Alma stepped inside into a narrow hallway with several doors leading off it. Tom brought in their cases and set them down, then closed the door behind them, “Go ahead, take a look around.”

The cottage inside was all uneven stone walls which had been painted, mostly white but some terracotta. Low beams on the ceilings meant Tom had to duck as he followed her into a small, but cosy sitting room, housing a sofa and some armchairs, a coffee table and a small television.

Along the hall another door opened onto a staircase leading upstairs. Also to the kitchen where there was a real AGA, Tom explained that the AGA provided heat to the entire house in the winter months and that there was no gas central heating. She wasn’t sure why she’d need to know that now, seeing as it was late July and they were currently in the midst of a very hot summer.

Another door lead to a sort of dining room, come sun room at the back of the property. This room was a little more modern, and had folding doors fitted which lead out onto a patio. Tom unlocked the door so Alma could make her way outside. The patio stretched the back of the property. There was a table and chairs, some sunbeds, and to her utter surprise a covered hot tub. A sturdy shelter was built over this to protect from the direct sun and to give a bit of cover.

The low stone wall separated the property from a short stretch of grass before the cliff edge and in front of her, Alma could see nothing but the sea.

“There are two bedrooms upstairs, and a bathroom,” Tom explained, coming up behind Alma, placing his hands on her waist and dropping a kiss to her exposed shoulder. She wore a simple white and navy striped sundress with thin straps. Her shoulder length, unruly curls were tied back for a change. She looked relaxed and comfortable. “Is this really okay?”

“It’s perfect,” Alma nodded, not taking her eyes off the view. There was something far off in the distance, a few small boats were dotted about, which made her smile, but a large ship, far off in the distance. A cruise ship maybe? “Is that a cruise liner?”

“It looks like it.”

“Have you been on one?”

“God no, I suffer with terrible seasickness, you?”

“No, not had the chance. But that’s a shame, I was hoping we could hire a boat,” Alma pouted a little, and turned in his arms.

“You’re not disappointed? I know you were expecting to go abroad,” Tom lifted a concerned brow, searching Alma’s face.

“God no, I didn’t expect anything. But this is better, it’s perfect…it’s just…us,” she pressed her lips to his briefly, her kiss reassuring, “No work, no cameras and sneaking about, no security breathing down our necks.”

“They’re not that bad.”

It was true, they weren’t that bad. Tom’s security was very discrete. In fact Alma had no idea they even existed until had Tom told her. He didn’t always use them, but for some of their more public dates they were never far away. Whilst his home was well secured, and Tom was fully capable of protecting himself, the same couldn’t always be said for open public spaces. They could risk dinners out in small, low key restaurants. But for example, at the theatre, or a day at the races, Tom might not see a danger until it was too late. The knowledge that they were sometimes not completely alone hadn’t sat well with Alma, and ever since he’d made her aware of it she’d avoided public outings, and was always looking over her shoulder.

“I know they aren’t, not really. I also know they’re there to keep us both safe.”

“Precisely. But no…no security. No phones, I’ve turned mine off. Just us, here, for ten days. Sound good?”

“More than good,” Alma agreed, with another kiss. It was pretty much all she could have dreamt of, an extended amount of time with her boyfriend without distractions. A chance to just be normal for once, “Are you going to show me the bedrooms then?”

Tom shot her a wicked grin, and grabbed her hand, more or less dragging her back inside, not bothering to close the patio doors. Who was going to wander in all the way out in the remote countryside? They scaled the narrow, slightly uneven staircase, and Tom pushed open the door to a good size bedroom which was taken up mostly by a ginormous, but utterly beautiful, ornate, four poster bed, made up with crisp white sheets.

Then Alma was pulling Tom by his hand, taking him a little by surprise, she managed to swing him round and shove him back onto the king size mattress. With little preamble, Alma reached behind her to slide down the zip fastening to her dress, and pushed it off. Tom needed no encouragement to tear off his own shirt, and remove his black sports shorts. He wore nothing beneath them.

Alma was on him in a heartbeat. She dived onto the bed beside him, and latched her mouth to his in a passionate kiss, pushing her tongue between his lips. Tom kissed back eagerly as he reached behind her to divest her of her bra as quickly as possible. As soon as it was gone, he rolled her onto her back and tore his mouth from hers, so he could focus on her chest. He took a perky nipple into his mouth and sucked, hard.

“Fuck, yes!” Alma shouted, louder than she meant to, causing Tom to let go and laugh, before moving to the other nipple, biting down, drawing a yelp from his lovers lips, then he drew back and licked over it to sooth the brief pain.

“Scream all you like, Alma. No one will hear you out here,” Tom teased, fingers grasping the elastic lace of her knickers and tearing them off of her, quite literally. He cupped her with his hand, none to gently grinding his palm against her clit, dragging a strangled groan from somewhere deep within her chest.

Their love making – if you could call this that – really crossed a broad spectrum. It was exciting, never dull. It could be slow, passionate and loving, with them both taking time to worship the others body. It could be funny, with them spending the hours leading up to it teasing and joking with the other, and when it came to it, they would laugh, as they rolled about on whatever surface they came to. Or sometimes, like now, it could be hard, and rough. Tom learnt over their time together, almost two whole years - Longer if you included the time before their brief separation - that Alma was no delicate flower. She liked it when he wasn’t gentle and she enjoyed him taking charge on occasion, though he could never call her submissive, and that certainly wasn’t a lifestyle they followed, they definitely liked to experiment and play. They had a good sex life, and Tom guessed that’s what happened when you were with someone you loved.

Tom slunk down Alma’s body, spreading her legs wide, and without warning sunk his teeth into her inner thigh, right at the top. She shrieked, and her hand flew down to his hair, which he’d let grow a little longer than normal on top, her fingers threaded through his locks, and scrunched up, pulling almost painfully. Then once more he licked over the area, and when he pulled back he noted the deep red teeth marks which he knew would bruise. He couldn’t wait to see her lounging in her bikini, with his teeth imprinted on her pale flesh.

Using his thumbs her spread her folds, inhaling her heady scent. She was wet, though that wasn’t unusual, Alma was always ready for him. Then he dove in, lapping at her core, darting his tongue in and around her entrance, like he knew she loved. Alma moaned noisily, and squirmed until he brought and arm up and rested it over her abdomen, pinning her in place.

His tongue flickered over her clit quickly, before he encased it with his lips and sucked hard. In turn Alma pulled at his hair even harder and cried out. One of her legs crossed over his back, her heel digging in almost painfully. He inserted two fingers, thrusting, gently at first, then he curled them upwards, beckoning her, and another suck on her swollen nub. Alma practically screamed his name, as her arousal gushed out over his hand and chin. Tom lapped it up eagerly, finally releasing her from his hold. Alma’s spent body relaxed, but her chest heaved with excursion.

“Roll over for me, darling,” Tom asked her, sweetly, as he assisted her onto her tummy, then helped her move into a kneeling position, backside in the air, head resting on the mattress, and her hands scrunched in the sheets. Tom took his shaft in hand and pumped a couple of times before lining himself up, and entering her in once swift motion.

Alma grunted softly, and Tom stilled, concerned “Alright?”

“Yes…yes, don’t stop,” Alma breathed.

So he continued, grasping her hips, he began moving quickly. He pumped in and out, feeling his own release approaching much quicker than he expected, perhaps it was the excitement of being so completely alone with her. Maybe because he felt more free than he had in a long time, knowing his phone wasn’t about to go off and interrupt them, or he wasn’t needing to rush off to a meeting.

“Fuck…yes,” Tom growled, hips pistoning faster, and without thinking his lifted a hand and brought it down on Alma’s bottom, causing her to shriek, it was a great sound. So he did it again.

She was so wet, absolutely drenched, he could feel her arousal on the back of her thighs every time he bottomed out, and her channel was clenching down hard. When he glanced down her eyes were clenched shut and her mouth was open. Her hands were gripping the sheets for dear life. She was coming again, and with that Tom found his own release, his hips stuttered, and he grunted loudly as he came inside her.

When he was finished, he pulled out and collapsed on the bed, wrapping his arms around Alma’s body and pulling her down and against him. They lay in silence for several minutes, nothing but the sound of their heavy breathing could be heard. It was so quiet without the busy city traffic passing by.

“We’ve really messed up these sheets,” Alma said after some time, in fact, Tom wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep before she spoke.

“Yes…you have,” Tom teased, moving a hand down her body and cupping her still soaked core, smearing their combined juices on his palm. He loved feeling the effect he had on her.

“Don’t,” Alma groaned, “I feel gross.”

“You feel fucking sexy.”

“Maybe we should have a bath, then change the sheets?”

“Soon,” Tom responded, groggily, “Let’s lay here a bit longer.”

∞

The next week carried on much at their first day had.

Tom and Alma made the most of the seclusion, and spent hours of the day making love in all manner of ways, and in all sorts of places. From the bedroom and kitchen, to the sun bed on the patio over- looking the sea at sunset. They’d even got a little frisky in the hot tub.

But their getaway wasn’t just about sex – although it took up a great deal of their time – they did explore the area too. Alma was keen to see the local seaside towns, and they had walks along the coast, and then into the countryside. Alma tried to teach Tom to surf, though she wasn’t an expert herself, it had been fun.

They also enjoyed the local pubs, one was just a fifteen minute walk down the lane, a beautiful little place which did great home cooked food. It also had a lovely garden, where Tom and Alma had spent several evenings drinking gin and tonics, and chatting with the locals before walking back to the cottage.

Alma was quite content with life in the West Country. Actually, as much as she loved her little house in South London, and her job at the museum, a big part of her was dreading going back to normality. The thought of just staying at the cottage forever with Tom was so appealing, and she knew she wanted to return. She’d already planned to ask him if they could return in the winter, as she’d love to see what it was like on an early frosty morning.

A week passed quickly, and before they knew it, it was their final night, and Tom suggested they go for dinner at the little pub they had found.

Alma decided to dress up a little more than she normally did. She wore a mustard yellow tea dress, and some black strappy sandals. The bright dress brought out the tan she’d managed to nurture over the time spent out in the sun, a difficult task for Alma who was normally pasty. Tom had even got a little bit of a glow, though he’d also got a bit burnt after a day on the beach and not enough sun lotion.

Taking Alma’s lead, Tom wore chino shorts, and an Atlantic blue button up linen shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

They walked to the pub hand in hand, and on arrival Alma was surprised to be greeted by the landlady who they’d become quite friendly with, her name was Cathy, a sweet woman in her early sixties with a thick West Country accent. She’d run the pub alone since her husband had passed away about a decade earlier. She lead them through the pub to a private dining area reserved for small functions and it was set out with candles on every surface, a bottle of wine chilling on the table, and music was playing quietly from a wireless speaker above the fireplace.

“What…” Alma trailed off turning to look at Tom who loitered in the doorway by a beaming Cathy, he grinned sheepishly.

“Your fella is a right old romantic,” Cathy explained, patting Tom’s arm, fondly, “You’ve got the room for the evening, I’ll be serving you myself. We’ve got a fresh seabass on the menu, caught this morning, just down the road.”

“Thank you, Cathy,” Tom smiled, finally moving into the room, “I really appreciate your help arranging this.”

“It’s my pleasure, honestly,” the older woman blushed at Tom’s praise and Alma had to hold in a bubble of laughter. Tom seemed to have that effect on people, “Starters will be about ten minutes, would you like me to pour the wine?”

“No, I’ll get it,” Tom said, politely dismissing her, it was clear he wanted it to just be him and Alma. Cathy smiled sweetly, and left the room. When Tom turned back, Alma had made herself comfortable at the little table.

Tom fetched the bottle of Chablis chilling on the side and held the bottle out in offering.

“Please,” Alma nodded, “This is so lovely, Tom. I can’t believe you arranged all this.”

“It’s our last night, I wanted it to be memorable.”

“Sweet man,” Alma smirked, as he filled her glass, returned the bottle to the ice bucket, and took a seat opposite her. He reached over and took her hand in his.

“I can’t begin to tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this past week, I’ll be honest, I wasn’t sure how much I would. You know I hate being taken away from my work, the business. Not only that, but I booked this break with you in mind. I know you hate a fuss, you like living off the grid. I don’t, I’ve always been too fond of my home comforts, but I just wanted to be somewhere where it could just be us, and it’s been incredible honestly, Alma. I didn’t think it was possible to love you anymore than I already did.”

“Oh shush, you,” Alma squeezed his hand.

“I mean it…I didn’t realise how important this was. I thought I knew you, Alma. But this week has made me realise how much we need to be together, I’ve learnt so much about you, I mean… you speak multiple languages, I’ve been with you almost two years, and that never came up, how did I not know that?”

Alma giggled, remembering Tom’s bemused face when she’d seductively invited him to join her in the hot tub - in French. It had been a bit of fun, but he’d just stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her. His eyes had gone almost black with lust, and he’d shot back a saucy response. Of course Tom spoke French. He was just that suave.

So Alma had grinned and told him he was a bit full of himself – In German.

Tom had frowned at that point, but was clearly impressed.

As Alma explained later, of course she spoke multiple languages, she’d spent her childhood moving around Europe with her Dad being in the forces. Mostly between Germany and Cyprus, but she didn’t live permanently in England until after his death. Being schooled abroad meant languages were almost second nature and she picked them up easily. Though she had little reason to use what was quite a sought after skill, and had assumed Tom would know – because he seemed to know most things about her, when she’d not even told him.

“That’s not a bad thing, Tom. I think it’s good that we’re still learning about each other, keeps it interesting,” Alma assured him, “But I agree, this week was important for us. We needed a break.”

Cathy served them a starter of baked Camembert to share, not Tom’s usual choice, and it didn’t really go with a fish main, but it was Alma’s favourite, and apparently Tom had ordered ahead. It was served with a homemade onion chutney and some delicious toasted ciabatta.

This was followed by the promised Seabass, which was fresh and poached to perfection, served with green vegetables and sauté potatoes. After the heavy starter, and delicious main, Alma was already feeling fit to burst, but Tom promised her dessert would be worth it.

It was.

Real Cornish Ice cream, with clotted cream piled on top. It was heavenly, and Alma managed to eat every scrap, as did Tom, though that was hardly surprising as the man could seriously put away his food. Alma wasn’t quite sure where he put it all, as he always remained so slim. Meanwhile, she was harbouring a pretty big food baby, and was glad of the summer dress which meant she had room to breathe.

“Would you like another bottle?” Cathy asked, clearing the empty plates. Tom gave Alma a questioning glance. They’d already had two bottles, and they both had an almost full glass left each.

“No, Thank you, Cathy,” Alma shook her head, “I think we’ve had enough, Tom will have to carry me back if I have another.”

The landlady chuckled and left them alone again.

“You know…tonight isn’t just about making our last night special,” Tom started, reaching across the table and catching Alma’s hand once more, “There was something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“Our…future.”

“Our future?” Alma arched a brow in question. Tom didn’t talk about the future, it was much easier to live in the moment and not worry about what could happen in the long run. Alma wasn’t stupid, she knew their future wasn’t mapped out like most couples.

“I love you, I don’t need to tell you that, you know how I feel. And if I was a good man…or a different man, with a different life, I would be getting down on one knee. You have no idea how much I want to. You’re my life, Alma.”

She understood. Marriage would be a very public connection to Tom, which until this point they’d managed to avoid. Alma didn’t mind that at all. He was a public figure, but he wasn’t a celebrity. Alma didn’t attend public events, but they could go out in public together and for the most part have a fairly normal relationship. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of her, he simply wanted to protect her.

Having a public connection to Tom would put her at instant risk. Tom had told her before how those attached to him could be used as weaknesses by anyone who wanted to hurt him. That’s why his Mum lived in a big house in the middle of no-where, and that’s why he never had Alma attend business related events with him.

But more than that, if they were married and something awful happened to Tom, God forbid in suspicious, or illicit circumstances, Alma would be in the firing line for all sorts of questions. She’d legally be the heir to his entire fortune and also his criminal empire. She knew he would never want that for her.

“You don’t need to explain yourself, Tom. I understand, I know you love me,” she assured him, squeezing his hand.

“I know you do, but it needed to be said, I need to pre-empt what I’m about to do,” he shifted in his seat, reaching into the pocket of his shorts, his withdrew a plain white envelope, which was a little crumpled because it was folded in half, “This is for you. If you want it.”

Alma stared at the envelope he’d handed her, wondering what on earth could be inside that had Tom this sentimental. He allowed her to let go of his hand so she could open the envelope, which wasn’t actually sealed, and neither was it labelled. From it Alma pulled out several sheets of printed paper, stapled together and folded.

She unfurled the pages and scanned her eyes over the front sheet.

“What is this?” Alma frowned, looking up at Tom.

“They’re the deeds to the cottage – well sort of. That is a contract, which if you sign, will transfer the deeds to your name. The cottage and the land it stands on will be yours, in its entirety.”

“The…the little cottage we’ve been staying in this week?” If Alma was honest, she’d assumed it was a rented property. It was old and quaint, and whilst not fitted with any mod cons, its age and location meant that it probably hadn’t been cheap. She’d never have guessed Tom owned it.

“That’s right,” Tom nodded, “I’ve been thinking about it a while, I wanted to find a way to ensure that should anything ever happen to me, that you would be secure financially. Without marriage my fortune will go to my next of kin, the business will go to Ben. I could write you into my will, but that’s no different to marriage where your safety after I’m gone is concerned.”

“Tom, don’t –”

“I know this isn’t something you want to talk about, Alma. But it’s important to me. I love you and I need to know you’ll always be looked after.”

“Okay,” she nodded at him to continue.

“The only way I can make sure you have a piece of solid, financial security, is by giving it to you now. I purchased the cottage a few months ago, whilst there are some modifications and extensions, the main building is over six-hundred years old. It is a grade II listed property, and it is worth over two and a half million. If you sign this document its yours. To do with as you will, to use it as we have this past week if you like. In the event of my…death,” Tom coughed, and Alma’s eyes widened at his bluntness, “You could choose to live there, or sell it and live comfortably on the profit.”

“Tom… this…it’s…it’s too much,” Alma struggled for the words. She loved that little cottage, to think she could own it was mind-boggling, “I don’t think I need to tell you that you shouldn’t be worrying about my financial security.”

“I know you have money, I know you’ve got the house, and I do know about your father’s pension,” Alma never spoke about the Army Pension, most of which stayed in a savings account. Alma wasn’t rich like Tom, but she was comfortable.

“This is lovely, Tom. Really, and please don’t think I’m not grateful…it’s just, not necessary. I don’t need you to give me financial security to know that you love me. I don’t need marriage either. I’m not going anywhere, you are my future.”

“If I was asking you to marry me, if I was down next to you on one knee. What would your answer be?”

“I…well…it would be yes, of course,” Alma bit her lip, truthfully, she’d never allowed herself to consider what her answer to that question might be.

“I know this isn’t as romantic as a proposal,” Tom started, and his shifted in his seat again, this time reaching to retrieve something from the opposite shorts pocket. A small velvet pouch with some gold stitching, “I didn’t lead with this, because I wanted you to have the full picture of what I was asking you.”

Out of the pouch and into the palm of his hand fell a ring. A gorgeous band, Alma guessed platinum, knowing Tom’s taste, but also her allergy to nickel - she had to be careful with jewellery – and it had a row of diamonds. They had to be diamonds from the way they were glinting under the candle lit room.

“Oh…Tom…”

“I brought you this, as a symbol of my love and commitment to you. I hope you’ll wear it, and accept it as my promise to love you and care for you always. You’d say yes to a proposal of marriage, which would mean half of everything I own would be yours and in the event of my death –”

“Tom, can you please stop talking about your death!” Alma exclaimed, not sure whether to laugh or cry.

“All I’m trying to say, is how is you signing those papers and accepting the house as my gift to you, any different from all that would come with signing a marriage contract. I’m asking you, in the only way I can, to spend the rest of your life with me. We can live together, if you like, though I know you don’t love the house. That’s fine, we’ll get another one. I don’t care what we do…as long as we do it together,” Tom reached out and caught Alma’s hand again, and squeezed it within his.

“Tom, sweetheart…I’ll wear the ring, and of course I’ll live with you. And I’ll sign the papers for the cottage if that is something that would make you feel more comfortable, knowing that you’re leaving me with something of substantial value. I love the cottage, Tom. But I love you more.”

Alma pushed her chair back and stood, moving quickly around the table so she could reach Tom, and was able to kiss him. He slid his own chair back allowing her space to perch on his lap. He took her hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger.

“You’re my everything, Alma. 

“And you’re mine.”


	14. Chapter Thirteen

“I really, really don’t deserve you,” Tom groaned, leaning back in his office chair, smirking down at Alma, who knelt on the floor – a cushion beneath her knees mind – between his spread thighs, who was now giving him a coy smile.

“I know, I know, dinner and a blow job. I’m just the best girlfriend.”

“Wife,” he corrected her, reaching out to run his fingers through her curls, not bothering to cover up, and bent forward to kiss her lips gently, although not lacking passion. He’d taken to referring to her as his wife – only between them, and only in private – ever since their little holiday. The exchange they’d shared on their last night, the agreement they’d come to, in Tom’s eyes was as good as marriage, and Alma didn’t disagree. Plus she’d more or less moved into his townhouse.

She’d not sold her own little house though. Jess had moved back in, with her – believe it or not – boyfriend. As much as she liked her studio apartment within the new hotel, she was having a rough time leaving work behind and wanted her own space. She’d started dating Andrius, the chef at the hotel, a lovely Portuguese man, who Alma completely approved of, not long after the hotel opened. They’d discussed moving in together, and a few days earlier Alma had suggested the idea of having the house. Using public transport it was less than an hour from work, and by car only twenty minutes – Andrius drove.

They’d both been excited by the idea, but didn’t want to rush into anything, so after Jess’s initial enthusiasm, she’d assured Alma that she and ‘Andy’ would talk about it, and let her know. Alma was in no rush. It’s wasn’t like she was in a rush for the money, as Tom refused to let her contribute to the household. Her only expenses were the council tax and utilities, which were minimal with no one living there. Plus her own personal expenses, phone bill, Oyster card ( which she refused to give up, despite Tom insisting that she could have a driver) and food – which she insisted on buying for the two of them, mostly because she was at home more than Tom, therefore eating more, plus, she didn’t mind cooking.

But not even a day letter Jess had called Alma and asked when they could move in. Less than a week after Alma had made the offer, Jess and Andy were settled into the two bedroom house in South London and there really wasn’t any going back for Alma.

It had taken some adjusting – living together. Alma’s work schedule was very typical most of the time, nine until five-thirty. Occasionally she’d have a big project, or a mass reorganisation of the department, and have to do a late night, or rarer still, an overnight. Tom on the other hand, was all over the place. Sometimes his work took place from his small office at home, but that was rarer – he preferred to take care of business at his office within the club, it was easier for him to focus. Other times, his work took him around the country, and he was away for days at a time.

So more often than not, Alma found herself completely alone in the big house, and Tom wasn’t fond of visitors. Though she’d learnt that on the rare occasion he did have guests, the middle level of the house was used. The level which Alma considered the ‘show’ living room. Unless it was Ben, who was the only regular visitor, Tom didn’t allow guests to enter the lower levels of the house, which Alma thought was a dying shame, as the open plan kitchen, and stunning garden, were ideal for entertaining. As was the bar and leisure area in the basement. He said it was because to him, those levels were his home, he didn’t want people encroaching on his personal space.

Over the course of their relationship, Alma had grown used to Tom’s strange working patterns, but living with them was quite different. She’d find herself ridiculously excited if Tom told her he’d be home before seven o’clock. She’d turn into the perfect house wife, cooking him a delicious dinner from scratch, and then run him a bath.

Now though, she’d brought dinner to him, but only because over the past week she’d barely seen him. He’d been arriving home so late that usually she was asleep, and only roused enough to be aware of him pecking her forehead as he settled into bed next to her. Then he’d leave so early in the mornings, that by the time Alma woke at seven, he’d be long gone. How he was even functioning was beyond her.

She was worried about him, and as his ‘wife’ she knew if she didn’t step in and look after him, he wouldn’t do it himself and nor would anyone else. She’d even caught sight of him, early one morning as he bent over the bed and pecked her lips, and said goodbye before he left, and if it was possible, he’d lost weight.

Not to mention, she missed him like hell, and just wanted her boyfriend – or husband as he insisted – home and in her arms.

Something was going on. Alma had no idea what it was, and she knew better than to ask. But when she text Tom, or spoke to him on the phone, he sounded stressed, his answers were short and clipped. He sounded irritated.

So, when he mentioned he would be meeting his accountant at the Emerald Lounge one afternoon, then working from there throughout the evening, as the club required some of his time, Alma concocted a plan. If she was to tell Tom he’d surely tell her he was too busy, and he didn’t have time for a distraction. She knew surprises and Tom didn’t always go down too well, but she could be certain if she arrived unannounced at The E-L, he wouldn’t pull a gun on her. The bouncers knew better than to turn her away these days, and she wouldn’t get into his office, without Brie calling ahead.

So she prepared a good dinner of homemade quiche, because it could be eaten cold, with potato salad and fresh salad leaves. She’d leave drinks down to Brie to bring in – and then for pudding she’d made chocolate brownies, because despite being extremely conscious of his physical wellbeing, Tom suffered with an incurable sweet tooth.

Upon arrival, Tom had been pleased to see her, but appeared more tired than she could have imaged. Still handsome, and well-turned out, but the grey beneath his eyes and drawn expression spoke volumes. Brie was unusually quiet, and amenable when Alma asked if she could bring in a bottle of Pino Grigio and two glasses from the bar.

Tom stood from his chair and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his body tightly, and refused to let go until Brie returned with the wine. Then he’d kissed her soundly, before they sat at his desk, pulling the chairs to adjacent corners, and ate dinner. Tom had polished off every scrap, and straight away looked much better, and he’d thanked Alma profusely.

They talked, and kissed, and then Alma told him she had another surprise for him, and the next thing he knew she was on her knees and unbuckling his belt.

Tom knew he was a very lucky man.

But their moment of bliss didn’t last, as just as he pulled back from their sweet kiss, the door to his office burst open, with Brie storming straight in and towards the desk.

“I’m not your answering machine, Sir!” she exclaimed throwing slamming her mobile onto the desk, barely giving Tom time to cover up and tuck himself away, or for Alma to scramble up off the floor.

“Fucking hell, Osman!” Tom shouted at his employee, “Heard of fucking knocking?”

“Nothing I’ve not seen before,” she hissed, giving Alma a spiteful side glance, but Alma was immune to Brie’s jibes regarding whatever relationship she and Tom had shared in the past, “You are needed in Belmarsh, Ben’s on lockdown, you need to go and sweet talk a few of those burley Prison Officers.”

“Fuck,” Tom hissed the work under his breath, and in one smooth move, and stood up, and grasped Alma’s arm as gently as he could manage and helped her off the floor. He quickly ensured he was tucked away and fetched his jacket from the back of his chair, “What’s the issue?”

“I just told you I’m not your answering machine. Call in yourself,” with that, Brie spun on her heel and marched back out the office, as Tom hurried swiped the phone off the side, and started dabbing away at it, as if forgetting Alma was even there.

“What…what’s going on? Is Ben in trouble? Why’s he at Belmarsh?”

Tom stalled. His eyes fell on her, and it seemed like actually, he really had forgotten she was there.

“It’s in regard to a client,” he explained, with some finality, which told Alma she shouldn’t ask any more questions.

“Oh.”

“Listen, sorry, love. I need to go. I need use of Jenson, and I don’t have time to drop you off. But Brie can organise another driver.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll clear up here, and grab a cab.”

“Ah, alright,” Tom said, and Alma knew then something really bad was up, which required his immediate attention, because he hated her using London Cabs more than he hated her using public transport. He leant in and brushed his lips briefly over her cheek, then he was gone.

∞

The atmosphere in the front of the Jaguar F-Type was painfully tense, as Tom smoothly moved the car through the busy streets of South East London.

“Listen, mate –”

“You’re a fucking idiot sometimes, Benedict. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, look, I didn’t even think.”

“Well, you not thinking nearly blew the whole fucking deal. We need McDonnell on side. You walking into the country’s highest security prison, and somehow forgetting to hand over your mobile makes us look like a bunch of amateurs. There is too much at stake to go making fucking stupid fuck ups like this,” Tom seethed, and slammed his fist down on his steering wheel, “I want this fucking job to go without a hitch, Ben.”

“And it will. McDonnell took the bait. Dates and times agreed, he’s on board.”

“Only after I stepped in, saved your scrawny arse, and rose the offer by ten percent.”

“What he thinks is ten percent,” Ben reminded his boss, “Listen, I reckon he’d have jumped at it anyway, he was just driving a hard deal.”

“I couldn’t take that risk.”

The car fell silent again, and Ben just watched Tom, as he drove with his eyes fixed on the road. He understood that he’d made a bit of a fuck up, but actually it had all worked out for the best. Tom handled these situations much better than he did, and Ben was certain the real reason the bent prison guard had agreed to play ball, was because he got to talk to the boss.

“So we are all go.”

“Yes, but I’ll be heading this up. I want you to organise transportation, identification, and relocation for the family. I want Osman to deal with the wife and kids, she’s been wanting to step up the ladder, this is her chance. I’ll deal directly with the client, I’ll arrange the funds transfer to an offshore account, then we’ll get a new account opened when we have an exact location.”

Tom rattled off his plan in a casual manner, and Ben knew there would be further meetings to cement everything. This was a big job, with possibly their most high end client to date. A high end client with big reputation.

Clint Boswell.

Mr. Boswell was a former associate of Tom’s. Tom had done his accounting early in his career, and had been one of the clients which he’d taken with him when he went out on his own. He was also a disgraced commercial attorney of law who withheld critical evidence in a trial involving a huge chemical company, which when uncovered, came with countless other cases in which he’d not acted within the law, and it landed him a long stretch in Belmarsh Prison.

A sentence which as a man of the law, he knew he deserved and accepted he had to serve it.

But whilst inside he’d come into some issues with another inmate.

Tom had received communication via Clint’s wife, that he was being blackmailed. This other inmate knew who he was, and what he did for a living. He was a convicted drug lord, considered himself the leader of some sort of London Mafia – on first impression he came across like a bit of a chav, all mouth, no trousers. But he was smarter than that. He had people on the outside – bad people who could really hurt Boswell’s family, if he didn’t do as he was told.

And what Mr Mafia wanted, was for Clint to use his contacts on the outside to support a drug bracket into to Belmarsh – the country’s most secure prison. He’d seen a market, and the businessman in him was going to make use of his time inside.

But Mr. Boswell was already disgraced. He could never go back to his old job, but he had fully intended to serve his sentence as peacefully as possible, with no trouble. Then move himself and his family abroad – somewhere hot – where they could live undisturbed by the negative media, and try and move on from his mistakes.

But that wasn’t going to happen, and Clint was ill. He had another year left to serve, and he didn’t think he could make it. His family were in danger and the only way he could protect them was to do it himself.

So he offered Tom an obscene sum of money – a sum Tom knew he had in the bank, because whilst he’d not done his associates accounts in many years, he knew what he had back then, and his business had only grown. His company was worth millions. Six point four million to be precise. And four million had been the agreed sum – to break him out of Belmarsh, and make him and his family disappear.

It was nothing Tom hadn’t done before – though on a much smaller scale. And he had rules. No drugs and no murder charges. Essentially, he wouldn’t play a part in allowing someone who was a threat to the public walk free. But a friend, who’d made a mistake, who had played a part in boosting his early career, needed his help.

Tom liked to call it hiding in plain sight.

A visit to the prison, a casual chat with the guards. One of which, Anthony McDonnell, was a long standing associate of Tom and Ben’s. He’d worked at Belmarsh for over ten years, and had assisted in several jobs. This time it was a big ask. Could he orchestrate a transfer, in which Clint Boswell could be intercepted and hidden. He had a hearing coming up in less than a fortnight, and it would be the ideal opportunity.

From there Boswell would be moved, put in hiding and then once he was safe from being found, his wife and children would be moved also, and would live happily ever after, in some sunny far off country, with new names, and a new life. And Tom would be several million pounds richer, and no one would ever know he’d arranged the whole thing.

That was the plan, anyway.

∞

_Two Weeks Later…_

There was a light tap at her office door.

Alma creased her brow, not expecting any disturbances. Thursday’s was her office day, and she was normally left alone to get on with paperwork.

“Come in,” she called.

The door opened and one of her assistants, Jack, stepped just inside. He was young, a student on work placement. Alma liked him, he was smart, but currently not very confident and seemed terribly intimated by her. She wasn’t sure why, as she didn’t feel she had an intimidating air about her at all.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss. George. I know you’re really busy.”

“It’s fine, Jack,” Alma smiled as sweetly as possible, trying to make the clearly nervous student a bit calmer in her presence

“It’s just, there’s a call from the front desk. A woman is here to see you. She says it’s urgent.”

“Oh,” Alma frowned, “Did she give a name?”

“She said to tell you it’s Brie, and you’d know who it was.”

“Ah.”

“Should I…say she can come down?”

“I’m not…sure,” What on earth could Brie Osman want, coming to her place of work? Alma’s first instinct was to grab her phone and call Tom. This had never happened before. In fact, unless Alma visited The E-L, she never saw the woman. They actively disliked one another, and whilst Alma knew the only reason Tom kept her in his employ was because she was a good manager for the club, and extremely discreet, he didn’t like the woman very much either.

But what if something had happened to Tom? Brie said it was urgent. There are so many reasons why she wouldn’t just call her. And Alma hadn’t seen Tom in days. In fact the last time they’d spoken it had not been under the best circumstances. They’d fought, over Tom’s apparent lack of interest in their relationship.

She’d told him she was sick of being in the house on her own. And he’d told her, she knew the score, and if she didn’t like it, she was welcome to leave.

Though as bad as it sounded, this sort of fight was not uncommon. Not for them anyway. And as vicious as their words to one another could be in the heat of the moment, the passion was still there. Alma had not left. And a large bouquet of white rose’s turned up on her desk the next morning, with a card reading simply ‘Don't leave me.’

They’d not seen each other since. Nor had they spoken on the phone. Though Alma had text him to tell him she wasn't going anywhere.

It had been an over-reaction on Alma's part. She'd been more emotional of late. More tired. She put it down to long hours in the office, and poor diet. She'd been unwell a couple of times and they'd fought about that too, Tom insistent that she take time off and rest.

Jack lingered by the door anxiously, waiting her his next instruction.

“Yeah, send her in,” Alma finally agreed. Jack vanished and Alma quickly straightened herself up, putting on her game face as this was her domain and she would not he putting up with Brie's usual shit here. She could say whatever she needed to say and leave.

There was another knock at the door. This time Alma answered the door herself, and what she saw on the other side made her double take.

It was Brie.

But not the Brie Osman she recognised.

Ms. Osman was always immaculately turned out. Full face of make-up, hair pinned tightly to her head, either in a neat bun or beautifully coiffed pony tail. She always wore tight, short dresses in red or black. And on her feet, never any less than a four inch heel, usually Louboutin’s.

The first thing Alma noticed was that the woman was substantially shorter than normal. Owing to the trainers on her feet, Adidas. And she wore was could only be described as Active Wear. As if she’d come straight from the Gym. Leggings, and a zip up hoody. But her hair was loose, and lighter without product, hanging in messy waves around her bare face. Not a scrap of make-up was present.

The second thing that occurred to Alma was how much younger the woman in front of her looked. She'd never thought to ask how old Brie was. She’d assumed maybe Tom's age, possibly older. But now without all the slap, it was clear this woman was likely closer to Alma's own age.

“You...you should come in,” Alma mumbled, dragging Brie into her office, shutting the door and locking it for good measure. Something was clearly up.

“Thank you for seeing me here. I know my visit is unexpected,” Brie said quietly, her voice a little croaky. She sounded exhausted.

“Do you…want to sit down?” Alma gestured to the crude plastic chair opposite her desk. Normally reserved for when she was doing appraisals with her team.

Brie accepted the invitation, took a seat. As she moved she gave the room a cursory glance, “Is it pretty sound proof in here? Any CCTV?”

“No,” Alma couldn’t help but smirk, “No cameras in here, us curators are lowly basement staff, and this building is almost three hundred years old, the walls are solid, and we’d probably survive a nuclear fallout down here.”

“Oh…okay. That’s good.”

“What’s going on, Brie? You’re starting to worry me,” Alma cut to the chase, first the unexpected visit from the last person on earth she wanted to be in a locked room with, and now all these questions about soundproofing and CCTV.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, Miss. George…Alma…. This is the only place that I know he’s not listening.”

“Who, Tom?” Alma asked, and Brie nodded, and Alma let out a mirthful chuckle “Well that’s reassuring.”

“I need your help. He’s…Tom’s done something. Something bad.”


	15. Chapter Fourteen

“You better be fucking joking, McDonnell.”

“I’m sorry, mate. Listen I’ve got to go, the pigs are on my back, I need to go and give a statement.”

“No, wait –” The line went dead, and Ben swore loudly, only just refraining from launching his phone out the window of his car.

He took several deep, shaky breathes, and carefully tucked his phone into his inside pocket. Then he pressed the ignition button in the Audi R8 – his most recent upgrade, though he wasn’t loving it as much as he had in the store.

He waited for the media centre to confirm the phone was connected.

“Call the boss,” he instructed, and backed the car out of its spot in the carpark of the remote Kent dock yard. The arranged meeting point.

The phone didn’t finish one ring.

“Is it done?” was the first snipped words from Tom on the other end.

“Afraid not sir. I’m on my way in. We need to commence contingency C.”

There was no response. The line cut off.

∞

“Ms. Osman. I’m quite aware that Tom has done many, many bad things. Which as his long-time employee, I’m certain you know more specific detail about than me. But I am not in his employ. Therefore I do all I can to avoid the specifics. I’m sure you understand why,” Alma stated calmly, trying to hide her inner panic as best she could. If Tom had done something terrible she'd prefer not to know.

“I do understand, Alma. I’m going to call you Alma because he’s not here and I need to be frank with you. You know, undoubtedly, you are the last person on this earth that I would come to for help unless I had any other option, and believe me, I’m risking my life even being here. You have no idea what your boyfriend is truly capable of.”

“I have some idea.”

“He will kill me. He would not hesitate to ensure I conveniently disappear, if he had any idea I was here, talking to you about this.”

“Fine,” Alma hissed, “What is it?”

“Have you heard of Clint Boswell?”

“Course I’ve heard of Clint Boswell. He’s been all over the news. He escaped Belmarsh –,” Alma stopped dead, catching Brie's telling look, “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed. But the truth is. It was a well thought out plan. Boswell is an old friend of Tom's. He trusted him,” Brie went on to tell the whole story. What Bowell had asked Tom to help him with, the financial transaction to make him safe, “Of course. Tom didn't expect Clint to stab him in the back. Tom set up a clear path, promised money to numerous people, to help him escape and to get him and his family somewhere no one would find them. But Clint had someone else in on it clearly. Someone to intercept and help him disappear, even from Tom's sight.”

“Fuck. Is Tom in danger of being found to have involvement?” Alma wanted to be sick, her stomach turned and she lay a hand over her belly, as if to try and calm the somersaults going on inside.

“No. Well... he had several contingencies in place. Clint's done a runner, and Tom trusted him. He didn’t take a penny. Lax on Tom's behalf, but this is someone he's known years. He sees Boswell like a father figure. So he agreed on payment after the job was done. He’s paid all involved out of his own pocket. Millions...but he’s angry,” Brie went onto explain, “I’d been asked to take care of Clint's wife and kids. Pick them up, keep them safe until we could move them. I didn’t know what I was involved with, I didn't know it was part of a contingency. Clint's kids are his world. He didn’t have them until much later on. They are Tom’s bargaining chip.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tom’s moved the children, he’s kidnapped them. He’s holding them hostage, as ransom until he gets his money. He thinks the wife is in on it, so she’s under surveillance. With her husband on the run, she can’t go anywhere. But Boswell thinks his wife and kids are being transported to a particular location. When he realises they aren’t there, Tom hopes he’ll come forward but…he’s never done anything like this before.”

“He’s kidnapped the children?” Alma repeated the only part she cared about, “Where’s he taken them?”

“Well, Tom hasn’t taken them anywhere, he’s had two of his men move them, and…I’m scared.”

“Are you sure? I know he’s done some bad things, but…I don’t think he’d put a child in danger,” Alma bit her lip, and bile rose in her throat. Of course Brie was sure. She wouldn’t have voluntarily come to see her otherwise. She must be truly desperate, “I’m going to be sick.”

In the same moment the feeling came over her, Alma was grabbing the waste paper basket from under her desk and heaving into it. Seeing her breakfast of coffee and porridge come back up did little to settle her stomach.   
  
She calmed eventually, and hadn't realise Brie had moved from her seat and now stood beside her, making sure her hair didn't get in the way.   
  
"He's livid, Alma. He's not thinking straight. This plan was never meant to come into play. But...I'm a cold hearted bitch. I admit that. But this is too much, even for me."  
  
"They're just children," Alma murmured, more to herself than to Brie.   
  
"He listens to you, Alma."  
  
"And he will know someone’s told me. Besides, I'm not even sure if I can... I can't understand why he'd even...” Alma took a deep breath, “If I spoke to him, tried to talk him round, it doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t change what he's already done. You are sure, aren't you?”  
  
"I watched his men shove those kids into the back of a van, Alma. I’m fucking sure.”  
  
Alma nodded, slowly.   
  
"Where is their Mother?"  
  
"At home. Worried sick. Police surrounding the house."  
  
"The kids? Do the police know?"  
  
"They must do. But with Tom involved... he has too many people on the inside to become a suspect."  
  
"Where are the kids?"  
  
"I don't know. Not exactly. Tom has so many places. But he has one he calls The Refuge. It's in the West Country somewhere. It's pretty remote, equipped. Non suspect. I've never been but –"  
  
"I have," Alma choked in sudden realisation, "I've been there. I own it!"

“What do you mean?” Brie took a step away from her.

“He gifted me a cottage in Cornwall. Beautiful, remote...he said...it doesn’t matter.”

“I don't think we have long. He's given Boswell forty-eight hours. Which I’ll be honest...for Tom that's generous.”

“Forty-eight hours,” Alma parroted back at her, “What...what does he intend to do with them after?”

“I'm not completely sure, but can hazard a guess.”

“Will he kill them?”

“No...no murder is a last resort. But...he has contacts with a man called Angus Grierson,” Brie started and Alma recognised the name. She'd heard Tom mention him before, he'd been for dinners at his house. Dinners Alma was not invited to, or if she was Tom would not allow her to come. Alma thought back to that night so very early on in their relationship. It was Mr. Grierson’s he was supposed to be attending the night she found about Claire the escort. The same Angus Grierson who had been convicted and subsequently acquitted after allegations of drug trafficking.

“I know of him. Tom said he's not a good man.”

“Tom makes his accounts look clean,” Brie explained. “Mr. Grierson is in importation. He has contacts globally. He can make the children disappear.”

Alma's eyes turned to saucers and before she knew it she was heaving again.

“He wouldn't...Tom wouldn’t do that!” she shuddered, “He couldn’t. He’s not...not a bad man.”

“He's a very bad man, Alma.”

“But...but if he’s so awful. Why does no one know? Why is he so successful? Everyone loves him.”

“Everyone loves the Thomas Hiddleston they see on the outside. But the truth is, he’s obsessed by money. It’s not even what he can do with it. It’s the numbers, it’s like an obsession. Why do you think he was such a successful accountant? He has a way with it and will stop at nothing. He will lose money if Boswell doesn’t pay the ransom. And he won't because he’s got no funds and he’s on the run, so he’s got no-where else to go. But Angus has spent years telling Tom there is good money to be made in trafficking.”

“Fuck.”

“Alma, I know…I know I’ve not always been very…hospitable towards you…but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think you were the only person who could help,” Brie admitted.

“I know that,” Alma nodded, and sat back in her chair. The nausea was backing down now, and she was trying to think.

“Will you help?”

“Yes.”

“Oh thank god, thank you,” Brie breathed, and finally sat back down in the chair opposite Alma.

“But, I can’t talk to Tom. If I talk to him, it won’t take him much to work out whose told me. You’re not my favourite person, Brie. But I couldn’t live with myself if though I’d put you in danger.”

“What do you suggest?”

“I can’t face him. Not now I know the truth. I cannot let him continue pulling the wool over my eyes. I’m a good person…” Alma trailed off and screwed her eyes shut. She knew what she needed to do, but she had no idea if she could do it. If she was capable of it. It would mean giving up everything.

“Too good for him.”

“Yes. I am,” Alma nodded, “I… I know where the cottage is. I’m going to get the children, I’m going to hand them to the police. Then I’m going to disappear.”

“That’s impossible,” Brie exclaimed, “He will find you, he has contacts within the met, he’s got people inside every single institute in the country. You cannot disappear from Thomas Hiddleston.”

“I’ve got to try.”

“If you are successful freeing these kids, then he catches you…he will kill you, Alma. It won’t matter who you are or what he feels about you. If you fuck up his big plan, and he cannot recoup his losses, he will end you,” Brie’s eyes were wide, her voice deadly serious. Alma had no doubt she was telling the truth.

But how could Alma go back to Tom? Know what she knew now? And whether she saved those children or not, she needed to disappear. She needed to be out of his grasp, so if she could do one thing before she escaped from Tom’s grasp forever, it would be to make sure he didn’t get away with harming those children.

“I’ve got to try,” Alma responded eventually.

“I’ll do anything I can to help?”

“I think perhaps the less you do the better? I think I need to do this alone. That way you don’t have any information,” Alma said, sounding much more confident than she felt. Inside she felt broken. But she didn’t have time for that right now.

“At least let me give you some important information. It could help you. Then I guess I should go, I’m due back at the club at six,” Brie pleaded.

“Okay. Go on.”

“Tom has so many contacts within the city. There are going to be very few ways of hiding. Anything the police can access so can he. Anything the government can access, I guarantee he has a contact who can get access too. I’ve seen him scour CCTV across the country for people trying to escape him Do not use your bank or credit cards, he will trace them. Do not use your phone, he can track it. Do not log onto your emails –”

“I get it, no footprints.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Anything else?”

“His men might seem a little dense. He doesn’t hire them for their brains, except Ben, he’s –”

“Way smarter than he looks, I know,” Alma nodded.

“Precisely. But the brutes… he hires them for their muscle. He pays them a lot of money to use it, and trust me, they won’t care if you’re a woman. They will hurt you, if they think you’re not on Tom’s side.”

“Right.”

“Do you need anything? Money?”

“No…no I can sort everything,” Alma nodded, “Thank you, Brie…I know this seems really bad, but I’m glad you came to me. I needed this…I needed someone to smack the rose tinted spectacles off my stupid face.”

“You’re not stupid, Alma,” Brie said, in a voice Alma had never heard before. A much softer one, “Tom is… charming. He’s special, and different and fascinating. And I know this probably isn’t what you want to hear right now, but…I’m sure he does love you. In the only way he knows how. He’s never had a girlfriend in the years I’ve known him. He’s never cared about anyone other than himself. So…you do have an effect on him.”

“You were jealous of me,” Alma said. It was a statement, not a question.

“Yes. I’ve loved that man since the day I met him. I know I’m a bitch, but I work in a world of men who are much stronger than me. I don’t have muscle and power to protect myself. But I do know how to feel love. I was jealous of you, because you had what I could never have,” Brie explained, “His heart.”

“But you knew everything?”

“Yes. And we are both better off without him.”

∞

When Brie left, Alma locked her office door behind her and took a moment.

She opened a new email, ready to write to her boss. Then thought better of it.

She grabbed a sheet of paper from the printer and a pen from the mug by her PC monitor, and wrote quickly, but as neatly as possible. Notice with immediate effect. Thank you for the opportunities given, but unforeseen personal circumstances means she can no longer work at the museum. Apologies that she is unable to tell her face to face. Alma batted away the tears as she wrote. She’d worked so hard for this.

She tugged open he drawer to find an envelope and her eyes landed on it.

The thing she’d been trying to forget that she’d hastily shoved under some papers that morning.

The white stick with two glaringly pink lines.

She grabbed it and shoved it in her handbag. Followed by a couple of other items around her office that she might need.

She shoved the letter in an envelope, scrawled her bosses name on the front, and left it on top of her keyboard. Then she tugged on her coat, scarf, and hat, grabbed her handbag and let herself out of the office.

“Jack, I’m taking a break,” she said, popping her head into the communal office down the hall. She disappeared before he could respond.

∞

After some thought Alma decided not to go back to the house in St. John’s Wood.

Not because she thought Tom might be there, but because she couldn’t risk leaving any trace of her departure. The longer it took Tom to realise she was gone the better. So instead she headed south to Lewisham, in a cab. Less easy to trace than the London Transport system.

“Alma, Christ,” Jess held her hand over her heart, when she let herself into her old home.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump. I had my key and I thought you might be working,” Alma explained a little breathlessly. She was desperately trying to appear normal.

“S'ok,” Jess shrugged, “It’s your house. What’s up, you look upset?”

“Oh...just...busy day. I’ve been sorting some bits and I remembered some stuff I left in the loft here.”

“Oh...well. Help yourself. Want a cuppa?”

“I won't, I can't stay long.”

“Okay,” Jess frowned, “Sure you’re okay? You’re very pale?”

“Just a bit queasy today.”

“Oh god, not pregnant are you?” Jess cackled and turned back to where she was pottering away, apparently tidying up, which came as a surprise because she'd always been the least tidy person Alma knew. Fortunately she missed the look of alarm on Alma's face.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” Alma almost choked and spun round, hurrying for the stairs, “This won't take me long,” she called.

The loft in her south London home was full of a lot of junk. An accumulation from over the years. Cases of old clothes, a set of luggage. Stuff from her travels. Old workbooks from University. A lot of her Dad's old stuff. But right at the back, hidden by two big boxes was a safe. It probably wasn't the most secure, it was small and had a combination lock. But really it didn’t matter about the strength of the lock. No one knew it was there except for Alma. Not even Jess.

Alma keyed in the combination and with a sharp tug the little door opened. She pulled out a small pile of paperwork and a thick brown envelope. Alma didn’t keep many secrets, but this one was pretty close to her chest. Not even Tom knew the circumstances surrounding her birth and her mother’s death. Not the true ones anyway. It was easier to tell people she died of cancer, rather than... my mother killed herself because of me.

Severe post-natal depression.

Her mother had gone mad.

Her father had been away and had never forgiven himself for not being there at his wife’s time of need.

He'd not been there when Alma was born either. Alma looked at the foreign language on the faded birth certificate. Alma May Berglund George. Alma had dropped the Berglund many years ago. She’d never known her mother, and her father was the one who’d raised her. Carrying a Swedish surname only garnered attention and lead to questions she didn’t want to answer. She was born in Sweden, whilst her Mother carried her she stayed with her own Mother, so she wouldn’t be alone. That was where Alma’s birth was registered.

Her passport too was inside too. And the deed poll documents from her name change.

It probably wouldn’t take much digging for Tom to find out her birth name. But her bank accounts were all registered without the Berglund, as were the deeds to her house. Her birth certificate would not be easily traceable, and Alma had never given Tom any reason to think she’d had any other name. But in terms of disappearing – it did have its advantages.

Alma glanced around the tight loft space and spotted what she was looking for – a large backpack. She shoved her documents inside, shut the safe, and hurriedly made her way back downstairs.

Now she just had to work out getting to Cornwall.

Initially she’d planned to make a withdrawal from the bank near her house, to get a lump sum of money but not give any leads as to where she was going. Then maybe get a taxi to a train station outside London. Then get a train to Truro, and make her way from there.

But now as she stood at the bottom of the stairs, she eyed Jess’s car keys on the hook by the door.

“Jess,” Alma called, walking into the kitchen, “Can I ask a favour?”

“Course, love,” Jess answered through a mouthful of toast.

“Can I borrow your car?”


	16. Chapter Fifteen

It had taken a little persuading.

But Jess had reluctantly handed over Andy’s car keys.

And now Alma was curled up on the floor of the master bedroom in her little west country cottage, with two children she didn’t know in her arms, trying to figure out her next move. Primarily getting the kids out, getting them safe, and getting the car back to Jess in one piece.

All without Tom catching up with her.

The boy - Huxley – had finally, after calming through terrified tears, fallen asleep on her shoulder. He couldn’t have been older than four. The girl was still awake, she wasn’t crying, but she'd not said much either. But both children had trusted Alma's word when she said she was here to help them.

It had been less than an hour and Alma knew she had to move fast. Lest the two oafs in the kitchen figure out something was wrong.

On auto Alma reached for her pocket, meaning to check for messages, before remembering that she'd ditched her phone back in London. She'd not turned it off or anything too suspect, she'd just put it in a bin on Lewisham high street just before she withdrew some money. Okay, it wasn't exactly keeping a low profile, but given how infrequently Tom saw her these past few weeks, she guessed she had a good twelve hours before he realised she was missing.

She jumped as the bedroom door swung open, it hadn’t been locked, but she'd been left alone since she arrived.

“Someone’s been a very bad girl,” the larger of the two brutes filled the doorway, blocking the light from the upstairs landing.

“I’m sorry?” Alma feigned innocence, but her heart was pounding.

“Had a little chat with the boss. Seems your boyfriend had no idea you were here. He's rather upset.”

“He must be mistaken. I told him –"

“Enough. I’m not here to play games, Miss. George,” the man stepped back into the hall, “Mr. Hiddleston is on his way. Until he arrives you will not leave this room.”

The door closed and Alma heard the lock turn in its mechanism.

Fuck.

“Alma?” a quiet little voice came from the young girl, Minnie.

“Yes, love?” Alma stroked her hair.

“Is the man that’s coming going to hurt us?”

“No, no he’s not,” Alma breathed out her reassurance, “Because we’re not going to be here, when he arrives.”

Alma carefully moved Huxley into his sisters arms, and stood, stretching her limbs. Then she walked to the bedside table on the far side of the old four poster bed and opened the drawer. It was just as she’d left it, and tears sprung to her eyes.

A couple of books which she’d been reading, a bottle of lubricant, a packet of gum. And there at the back was a key. Not to the bedroom door, there was only one of those, normally kept in the door all the time. But this key unlocked the little wooden framed window. Alma shut the drawer as quietly as possible and headed to the window.

It was a little stiff from lack of use, but Alma managed to shove it open and peer outside. The bedroom overlooked the back of the property. It was too dark to see past the cliff edge, but looking straight down Alma was relieved to see that her memory served her correctly. The shelter which shaded the hot tub was directly below the window. From there the drop to the patio which stretched the rear of the property was nowhere near as far.

She closed the window and turned to the children.

“Did you have coats?”

Minnie shook her head, no.

“Okay. It’s very cold and wet outside, but my car isn’t far,” Alma explained quietly, “We need to wake your brother, and then I’m going to lift you out that window one at a time, there is a ledge just underneath. Then I’ll come out behind you and will help you both down to the ground.”

“I’m scared,” Minnie whispered.

“Me too, but we are going to be okay.”

Alma walked to the door and put her ear to it. She could hear nothing. She knelt and peered through the keyhole. There didn’t seem to be any movement outside.

Minnie woke her brother up, and Alma found a couple of blankets in the cupboard.

Alma opened the window once more, and with one final glance back at the bedroom door, she set to work. With both children out on the roof of the shelter, Alma threw out the blankets, climbed out herself then pulled the window closed behind her.

Getting the children down from the shelter was a bit harder. There was a chance either one of the men might see them if they ventured into the dining room at the back of the house. But right now the room was dark. Alma sat on the edge and lowered Minnie down first. She told her to bend her knees and dropped her, she fell about a foot and landed easily. Then carefully she lowered Huxley next, it was much harder to make sure she could get the small boy low enough for Minnie to get a good hold on, but eventually both children were safely on terra firmer.

Alma jumped down and quickly wrapped a blanket around each of the children and pressed a finger to her lips urging both of them to stay quiet. Then picking up the small boy and resting him on her hip, and taking Minnie's hand in her own they group crept around the property. The back was not fenced in from the front so it was easy to scale the entire building without any obstacles. However, it was wet and vision was poor. Working their way down the hill towards the road would be treacherous if they did not use the path. But getting past the kitchen window would prove impossible without getting caught. In the end Alma took a risk. She walked across the top of the hill to the low stone wall which surrounded the outskirts of the property. It would take longer but was the safest way down to the gate. To simply follow the wall.

“Keep your hands on the wall,” Alma instructed the children quietly, setting Huxley down in front of her, “Keep going until we get to the gate. Be careful its slippery. I’m right here.”

Together they slowly worked their way down the hill. Each of them slipping and sliding in the boggy grass, drenched from the constant winter rain

“I’m cold,” squeaked the little boy.

“I know. Not far now. It’s warm in the car,” or at least it would be when she got the engine going and the radiator on full blast.

Eventually they made it. Alma picked up Huxley again, “Run,” she whispered pointing down the road where in the distance she knew her car was still parked, just off the road in the gateway to a local farmers field.

It was dark, and scary. It was impossible to see more than a few steps ahead and the rain pelting down was ice cold. Alma didn’t dare look back. They’d got this far.

The men back at the house were idiots, Alma decided, as she shoved a hand in her pocket and grasped the car keys. They didn't even question how she got there. Although she didn't own a car so Tom wouldn’t have expected her to drive there.

It was exactly where she'd left it, and as soon as she unlocked the doors, she was shoving both children into the back seat.

“Huxley needs a car seat,” Minnie worried as Alma fastened both if the children with standard seat belts, “And I should have a booster seat.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have either of those things. But I will drive carefully. I promise I’ll get you to safety as soon as I can.”

Alma climbed into the driver’s seat, started the engine and was off. Only briefly glancing in the rear view mirror, and seeing nothing but blackness behind her. Those two goons probably hadn’t even realised she had gone. Alma breathed heavily as she sped down the deserted country lane. She couldn’t believe she'd actually done it.

∞

“Where is she?”

“In the bedroom with the children sir,” one of the men held out the key which he'd taken from the door for Tom to take.

He was livid.

Livid and terrified.

He had no idea how Alma had found out what was going on. He'd left Ben to figure that out whilst he dealt with the matter at hand. Ensuring nothing else went wrong and dealing with his wife.

What she intended to do by turning up at the cottage was anyone’s guess. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what was going through her head by involving herself.

As soon as he'd received a call notifying him of her arrival he'd wasted no time jumping into his car and breaking numerous speed limits.

“Has she said anything?”

“Not given her the opportunity, Sir. Locked her in there, and told her you were on your way.”

“Right.”

Tom headed upstairs, both men in his wake.

He unlocked the door to the master bedroom, ready to put on the best act he could to try and get Alma on side. He would have to if he stood any chance of keeping her, and her allowing him to move the children on.

But upon opening the door it was instantly obvious that no one was inside.

“Well?” Tom asked, turning round and looking at the men who now stood just inside the door, looking utterly confused.

“She was right here, with the kids.”

“Not anymore. Obviously,” Tom growled, as he started looking around the room frantically. Pulling open cupboards and drawers as if searching for how she'd made her escape. Then his eyes landed on the window. It was closed but not properly.

He approached it and pushed it open, and looked outside. The moss atop the shelter was disturbed and it was clear how Alma and the children had made their escape.

“When did you last check on her?”

The men looked at each other.

“Well?”

“Not since we locked the door, Sir. Four hours, maybe more.”

“Fuck!” Tom shouted loudly, pushed past both the men and making his way back out of the bedroom, “Fired! You’re both fucking fired!”

∞

Alma had kept to the B roads. Driving carefully and staying close to the coast. She had no idea where she was going and whilst she still had about quarter of a tank of fuel, it wouldn’t last forever and she needed to get the children to a police station soon. That was the plan. Drop them to a small police station and then move on.

It had just gone nine o'clock in the morning when Alma drove into Eastleigh. It was somewhere between Southampton and Portsmouth. Both children were asleep in the back of the car. She drove around until she saw, by complete chance, a police station.

She parked up a street away and leant back to wake the children.

“Hey guys,” she murmured as they came around, “I’m going to take you to a police station. I can't come in with you, but I’m going to write a note.”

With that Alma hunted around in her bag, which she'd left in the passenger foot well. Inside she'd packed a small note pad and pen that she’d taken from work. She wrote a brief note with the children’s names and where they were from. Leaving out her own details but asking they be returned safely to their mother.

“Alma?” Minnie asked as Alma stopped just across the road from the police station, and she'd handed the older girl the letter and hugged both the children.

“Yes, love?”

“Will we see you again?”

“No, darling. But you’re going to see your Mummy soon. I promise,” Alma hugged them both again. Then checking the road was safe she sent them both across. Then she moved out of sight and watched from a safe distance until both children disappeared through the doors. She watched for a few more seconds to be sure they didn't come back out. Then Alma ran as fast as she could back to the car.

She should have felt relieved. She’d wanted to make sure the children were safe, but in all actuality she couldn’t be certain they would be. She could only hope the small police station would act accordingly, and that by now the news of the children’s disappearance was too big for Tom to attempt anything else.

Getting the children out of her boyfriend’s grasp had been the easy bit of her plan.

Now she had to focus on the next step – disappearing.

Alma was hungry, and tired. But she knew she didn’t really have time to stop. But there was a few things she needed to do.

First of all, she parked up in a multi storey carpark in Portsmouth City Centre. Then she headed on foot into town. It was risky being somewhere so built up but it was the only way she could do everything she needed.

She headed to a phone shop and brought herself a cheap mobile and a pay as you go sim card. Then she headed to a post office. There she penned a letter to Jess.

An apology, but no explanation for her behaviour. Just thanking her for being a good friend, and the address for where to find the car. She also wrote reassurance that should Tom come looking for her she could show him the letter. She put this in a padded envelope along with the car key and sent it twenty-four hour tracked.

Then Alma knew she needed to get moving.

She got a taxi to the airport. Gatwick was an obvious destination, but she hoped her location hopping had bided her some time. She’d also managed to find some free WIFI and checked departures. A flight to Hamburg left in just under three hours, and there were seats left. She knew paying at the airport would cost her an arm and a leg, but she only had one bag which she could take as carry on, and she could only pay in cash.

∞

“What have you got?”

“She made a large withdrawal at the bank on Lewisham high street yesterday afternoon,” Ben explained down the phone. Tom was on the other end, in his car, on his way back to London. There was literally nothing. They had no idea how Alma had got to Cornwall, or how she’d left. But hours had passed and she could be miles away by now.

“How much?”

“Twenty five hundred cash, over the counter.”

“She went to the house. Can we track movement?”

“Already done it, Sir. I’ve managed to track her on CCTV, she got into the driver’s seat of a Nissan Qashqai, it’s registered –”

“To Jessica, I know.”

“Precisely, I’ve got a trace on the car, to see if we can pick it up anywhere. But we really have nothing to go on.”

“I want to pay Jessica a visit. I’ll be back in London within the hour.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ben replied, then caught Tom before he hung up, “Erm, Tom, there’s something else.”

“What is it?”

“We’ve checked CCTV outside the museum yesterday. I’ve watched it a few times and I’m pretty confident in what I’m seeing.”

“Spit it out.”

“It’s Osman, Sir. She’s dressed down, but it’s definitely her. She entered into the museum just before half past ten, and then leaves fifty minutes later. Ten minutes after Alma is seen leaving the building.”

“Bring her in.”

“Tom, mate are you –”

“Bring her in. I’ll deal with her when I’m done with Jessica.”

∞

“May I please see your boarding pass, and passport?”

Alma handed over her passport, with the print out she was given when she brought her ticket at the Easyjet customer service desk upon arrival at the airport, slipped inside. The whole process at the airport was much easier than she’d been expecting. She was no stranger to travelling, though normally not with such short notice, or with so little luggage.

“Thank you, enjoy your flight.”

“Thank you,” Alma smiled, relief filling her for the first time as she retrieved her passport and boarding pass and made her way onto the aircraft. Sure, it would take Tom and his people no time at all to track her movement now, but the minute she was in the air she was safe. When she touched down in Germany, she was on familiar soil and she knew more places to hide than Tom knew existed.

She’d not visited the country she’d spent most of her childhood in, in several years. Between graduating her Masters degree and starting her new job, and then her relationship with Tom, it had caused her to lose touch with where she considered her roots to be. But not completely, she may not have returned in a while, but she still had a few ties.

It was cold in Hamburg. Actually it was snowing a little when she stood outside the airport and waited in line for a taxi. She planned to location hop again to get where she wanted, not leaving it to chance. It would be easier to get one of the transfer buses directly where she needed to go, but this way was safer.

When she’d finally settled in the back seat of a taxi, and fluently told the driver where she wanted to go, Alma took out the new phone, and the piece of paper she’d shoved in her bag before she’d left home, on which she’d scribbled down a handful of phone numbers from her phone before discarding it.

She dialled the number she needed and put the phone to her ear.

No answer at first. So Alma dialled again. The second time, after about twenty seconds, the line picked up and there was a hesitant hello.

“Lisa?” Alma asked.

“Yes, who is this?” was the response, in German.

“It’s Alma, sorry this is a new number.”

“Oh my... Ally? It’s been such a long time, what are you doing calling me at... half past ten on a Tuesday night?”

“I know, I’m sorry. I can explain. But...I’m in Germany, just outside Hamburg actually. I wondered if you could pick me up?”

There was a moment of silence on the other end.

“Are you okay, Ally?”

“No...no I’m not. But I will be. I know it’s been a long time. I have no right to ask anything of you. But –”

“Where shall I meet you?”

∞

“Where is she?” Tom practically roared the words, his face just millimetres from Brie Osman's. She shifted uncomfortably, but was unable to wipe the spray of saliva from her face, because her hands were tied behind her back.

“I. Don’t. Know.”

“Don't be an idiot, Brie. You know how this is going to end,” Ben urged his colleague as Tom growled and paced around the room.

“I’ve told you there is no point denying it. We have CCTV of you going into the museum. An hour later you leave, followed shortly after by Alma. We know you told her about the children. Now, you need to tell me whatever plan it is the two of you have concocted up behind my back,” Tom spoke as calmly as he could manage.

“I’m not denying it, Sir!” Brie spat the address, “I did tell her what was going on. Only because I thought she’d be the one to talk to sense into you. But unfortunately the news that her boyfriend was a sick bastard who kidnapped children with the intent of trading them off on the black market was too much for her to bare. She wants nothing more to do with you.”

Within a split second the cold end of a revolver was pressed the Brie's temple.

“Tom -" Ben tried to step in. Before his friend did something he’d later regret.

“Where is she?” Tom asked again, pressing the gun almost painfully into her skin, but Brie didn’t flinch.

“I don't know. She wouldn’t tell me. She said the less I knew the better.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Well I’m telling the truth. Your girlfriend is smarter than you think. Little Alma has more secrets than you can imagine, and she'll use every single one of them to her advantage to stay away from you!”

“Last chance,” the safety clicked off, and Tom's voice raised to a new level, “Where the fuck is my wife?”

“Wife?” Brie snorted, “She's not your wife, thank god. I’m sure she's glad you didn’t make that mistake right n –”

Brie didn’t get to finish her sentence, as the gunshot cut her off mid-sentence and Ben cried out loudly as her lifeless form slumped in the chair.

∞

“Fuck me,” Lisa slumped back on her little couch and looked across the room at Alma in disbelief. Alma learnt forward, elbows on her thighs and her hands grasped tightly around a mug of steaming coffee, “That’s all kinds of fucked up.”

“I know. I wish I was making it all up but...I’m so sorry to bring this to your door step. I couldn’t think of anywhere...anyone else who might be able to help me.”

“Don’t you dare apologise. I’m glad you’re here. I’m terrified for you, for me now too. But also...I’ve asked you so many times to come here. Told you, you’re welcome. But I also knew you had to do your thing.”

“I’m sorry I’ve not been in touch. Time just goes by so quick you know?”

“Hey it takes two. I could have called you!”

“Well there is that.”

“How long have you got? Do you think? If he’s as clever as you say. How long until he finds you? “

“No idea. I mean... I don't remember talking about you. I don’t know how quick he could link us. He probably knows I’m not in England anymore.”

“This couldn’t get any worse...”

“It could.”

Alma’s bottom lip wobbled as she realised what she was about to admit for the first time and she set her mug down. A hand fell over her belly and she looked at her oldest.

“You’re joking?” Lisa looked at her friends hand and then to her face, “How long?”

“I’ve no idea. Maybe a couple of months. I only found out yesterday morning.”

“Ally…what are you going to do?” Lisa’s eyes were wide, her concern for her friend evident.

“I’m going to go to Mormor’s house. It’s off season so it won’t have any bookings,” Alma explained.

“No. I mean about the baby. Ally, you can’t go to the villa whilst you’re pregnant, you’ll be miles from a hospital. Not to mention it’s the middle of winter, it’s cold here, it’ll be freezing there.”

“What choice do I have? I can’t keep running. I need to be somewhere stable, and safe. Plus…it’s technically my home. I do have some family there, granted I’ve not seen Great Aunt Annika since Mormor’s funeral, but I know she’s still there. It’s…it’s the only place I can go.”

“Okay…so how are you getting there?” Lisa asked, suddenly sounding a lot more practical, “You can’t fly into Stockholm. You’d be caught out too quickly.”

“It’s driveable. I checked a map. There’s a lot of bridges, and ferries and tolls, but I can drive.”

“Okay, you need a car,” Lisa understood.

“I need a car.”

“I’ll drive with you. I can’t stay, but I can take a couple of days off work to get you there.”

“I don’t expect you to do that.”

“I know you don’t. But I’m not going to make you drive all the way to Sweden in your condition.”

“Have you listened to everything I’ve done in the past forty-eight hours?” Alma managed to laugh, for the first time in two days, she had to see the funny side.

“I know,” Lisa chuckled at her friend, “But that was before I got involved. You’ve come to me for help. So I’m helping you.”

“Alright.”

“But first, sleep. You’ve not slept, and you’re growing a human. You must be exhausted. Bed!” Lisa ordered, standing up and taking the mug, “I’ll wake you at half four, we’ll set off early, yes?”

“Thank you,” Alma stood and caught her friend, wrapping her arms tightly around her, “You have no idea how grateful I am.”


	17. Chapter Sixteen

“Tom?”

“She didn’t even come back,” Tom grumbled, rifling through Alma’s clothes in hi expansive walk in wardrobe, everything remained untouched, right down to the pair of checked flannel pyjamas Alma had last slept in, flung half into the laundry basket. “She’s left everything.”

“Sir,” Ben tried again, addressing his friend formally, despite being inside his home.

“What?” Tom grumbled, pulling open a drawer and emptying its contents onto the floor.

“News just broke, Minnie and Huxley Boswell have been found. They’re both back with their mother. The official statement doesn’t give anything away. I’ve spoken to Adrian Brooks, he’s trying to get some inside info for us, relating to where they were found, but…it’s not going to make any difference to finding Alma. And with the world watching, I don’t think we can win this one.”

“Fuck,” Tom shouted, kicking the wall in fury, although not hard enough to do any damage or hurt him, “What else?”

“Jessica has retrieved the car, we’ve searched it, come up with nothing. But…I’ve just had it on good authority that Alma boarded a flight at Gatwick last night.”

“Where to?”

“Hamburg, Germany,” Ben answered, “I’m waiting to see if we can get some CCTV from the airport, but to be honest, she could be anywhere by now. She might not even be in Germany anymore.”

“She’ll be in Germany,” Tom said, decisively, “She grew up there, in forces accommodation with her Father. Can we find out where he was based? See if there’s anyone Alma might still be in touch with, check social media?”

“On it.”

∞

“Ally?” Alma slowly roused from her deep sleep to the sound of her name being called gently, “Ally, wake up.”

“Hmm?”

“Want some breakfast?”

“Where are we?” Alma grumbled, rubbing her eyes. She’d not meant to fall asleep, but Lisa had woken her painfully early. Half past four to be exact, and they’d set off after Alma had showered and freshened up for the first time in nearly three days. They drove through the darkened city streets and towards the Danish border. Shortly after crossing into Denmark, Alma had drifted back to sleep, and now it appeared like they were at some sort of motorway services.

“Just outside Copenhagen, we’ll be crossing over into Sweden soon,” Lisa explained, “But we need to eat, you need to stretch your legs, then you’re going to take the Wheel for a few hours.”

“Okay,” Alma nodded fumbling in her bag, before stopping, “Shit, I don’t have any Krone.”

“I do,” Lisa assured her, “I had some from my last trip, only a little bit, but it’s enough for food and fuel.”

“Okay, I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t be silly.”

They ate, and drank coffee, although Lisa griped about caffeine and pregnancy. Then Alma reminded her friend that she’d been through a huge ordeal, one coffee wasn’t going to hurt. Then they filled the tank with gas, and set off again, this time with Alma at the wheel. They talked about stopping and finding a hotel. But they were set to have about another seven hours on the road, and both agreed it would be better to just keep going, after all, they’d be there before nightfall, and once they arrived they could sleep, and rest before Lisa would have to make the drive back alone.

Alma insisted on driving the rest of the way, as long as they stopped for lunch, which they did just before they hit Stockholm, agreeing it would be better to avoid stopping in the vicinity of the city. Alma had no idea what powers Tom had outside of the UK but she didn’t want to take any risks.

If Alma had thought Hamburg had been cold, it had nothing on the Stockholm Archipelago. A layer of snow coated the roofs of the little red houses they passed, and sheets of ice lay over the water. The odd ice breaker boat could be seen – mostly water buses and taxis. Alma hadn’t spent a lot of time there in the winter months, and was used to seeing the waters absolutely teaming with everything from motorboats to cruise liners.

“This is beautiful, Alma,” Lisa said, having sat in silence as they’d left the built up city and it became more and more rural as they went. Most of their drive had been through miles of countryside, and they’d seen a lot of snow, and a lot of picturesque landscape. But Alma had to admit, as a child she’d not appreciated the beauty of the archipelago its self, and now as an adult, it was a little over whelming to think this was her place of birth.

“I know.”

“I don’t get why you never came back before, especially after your Grandmother –”

“I don’t know…I guess I just couldn’t face it,” Alma shrugged, then raised a hand from the wheel and pointed off in the distance, “That’s the castle, we’ll be in Vaxholm after the next bridge.”

“Finally.”

“Thank you for doing this, Lisa. You’re an amazing friend.”

“Shut up, Alma. You’d have done the same for me.”

∞

“Lisa Roth,” Ben announced, somewhat proudly, as he entered his boss’s home office, where Tom was set up with his laptop, and had Google maps open in one window, and a list of British Army bases in another.

“I beg your pardon?”

“She’s a friend of Alma’s on Facebook. They don’t interact much, and they’ve not private messaged in over a year. She’s based in Germany, and they met when Alma’s father was stationed in Bielefeld Garrison. They went to school together,” Ben explained, “It seems like they were very close.”

“Alma never mentioned a Lisa.”

“She didn’t mention much about her life before you, did she?”

Tom grumbled to himself, unwilling to acknowledge the truth behind Ben’s comment. Though it was true. Alma always keenly talked about her travels and her interests, and on very rare occasions she would talk about her Aunt and Uncle who’d brought her up after her Dad passed, although she made it clear that was a strained relationship these days. Tom wasn’t quite sure the reason behind it, he just knew they spent most of the year living in the South of France, and Alma spoke to them on the phone every once in a while. But Alma rarely talked about her Father, or her life before she moved to England. Things had been mentioned in passing, but she’d definitely never talked about friends.

“Do we have an address?”

“No, we are looking but I don’t think we are going to have much luck. All we know from the Facebook images is that she must be based somewhere along the Baltic coast, judging by the landscape, it would also add up, as Hamburg would be the closest airport for most of that…erm…bit.”

“So what you are telling me is that we are no closer whatsoever, to finding her?” Tom snapped, impatiently, convinced Ben was purposely trying to waste his time.

“Not quite,” Ben shook his head, “We’ve got CCTV of Alma getting into a Taxi at Hamburg Airport, we managed to track it about fifty kilometres, heading north. She got out, and then waited a while. Shortly after another car picked her up, but we only have a partial registration. We are working on it though. Can’t promise anything, but what we do know is that she is somewhere on the coast and I’m guessing not far from the drop off. All we can do is keep scouring CCTV, I’ve got a check on her cards in case she uses anything. Also check-ins at airports.”

“We’ve lost her, haven’t we?” Tom groaned, leaning back in his chair, and pressing his palms to his face.

“Tom…mate?” Ben put a hand on his friends shoulder, “It’s over mate, you’ve lost the money, I know it’s a huge hit, but you will recover.”

“I know.”

“Let her go.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because I trusted her, and she’s betrayed me. Because I let her in, and gave her everything and…and I fucking love her, and she hates me so much that she did the one thing she promised she’d never do. She left me, and I can’t let her get away with that.”

Ben took a long shaky breath, not used to seeing his friend so…broken. He wasn’t sure what to say. He knew Tom well enough to know he didn’t want sympathy. He wanted revenge.

“So, what next?”

“We keep looking.”

∞

“This is the place,” Alma pulled up in front of a row of shops on the south side of the Island of Vaxholm.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep, she runs the fish shop, and lives in the flat above,” Alma gestured to the fish mongers a few doors down. Owing to it being off season, the town was not as busy as Alma remembered, with the lack of tourists, but the locals remained, and they were the ones who brought ninety percent of the year round business to the local shops.

“What if she’s not in?”

“She will be, she doesn’t leave the island,” Alma was sure in all the years it has been since she’d last seen her Great Aunt, that much wouldn’t have changed. She and her Mormor both used to say the same – Why go to Stockholm when you have all you need in Vaxholm?

Annika Nilsson had not changed one bit. Still the polar opposite of her older sister who’d passed almost fifteen years ago. Alma’s Mormor also called Alma, had been tall, much like Alma in build, and her Mother had been the same. Annika was shorter and plumper, and had a permanent smile on her round face. These days she’d given up dying her hair to keep a youthful appearance, and she wore a head of white curls.

Alma stood in the entrance of the shop waiting for her Great Aunt to finish serving her customer. She laughed and joked and chatted away in Swedish, which although Alma was fluent, sounded so foreign to her these days. When she spotted Alma she went to speak, before she fell silent, lips parted and the colour drained from her face. After a moment she put a hand to her heart and shook her head.

“Oh Alma, my goodness…oh I thought…oh,” she hurriedly pulled off her gloves, and hurried from behind the counter to pull Alma into her arms, “What are you doing here, you beautiful girl?”

“It’s a long story,” Alma mumbled, returning the hug, “Oh, this is Lisa,” Alma gestured to her friend.

Lisa and Annika did their introductions, and Annika quickly announced that she would close the shop earlier, and within fifteen minutes they were upstairs in a beautifully spacious, and toasty apartment, holding mugs of coffee and eating fresh cinnamon buns.

“You are a spitting image of your beautiful Mother, Alma. I thought it was her when I saw you down there,” Alma smiled sadly, she’d never heard that before. She guessed when her father was alive she’d not grown into her looks quite so much. It felt strange to be told she looked like her Mother, she’d seen photos of course, but had never noticed more of a resemblance than her hair and build. 

“I’d like to stay for a while, in the villa,” Alma explained eventually, “I’m guessing there aren’t any bookings until April.”

“I’ve not opened for next season’s bookings yet,” Annika explained, and sighed, “I’ll be honest, I did not wish to worry you with it, but the basement flooded in September, we had a bad bout of rain. It’s all dry, but there’s a little damage. It’s liveable, but I’ve not had chance to get repairs done, and so I didn’t want to open for bookings until it was sorted.”

“Well that’s okay, I can sort that out,” Alma agreed, “I think, maybe for a while I’d like to make a home here. I know it’s out of the blue. But…I need to be here right now.”

“I’m not about to turn you away, sweet girl,” Annika shook her head and chuckled, “But I have to ask what’s brought all this on?”

Alma couldn’t tell the truth. She would eventually have to explain about the baby, but first she just wanted to settle herself in, find a doctor, and make sure everything was okay.

“I will tell you. But… it’s just a bit soon.”

“Right well… it’s too late to get a boat tonight. But I’ll have Bill, you remember Bill?” Alma nodded, Bill was Annika’s eldest son, probably in his mid-fifties by now. “Well Bill will take you out tomorrow. We can get you some supplies, and make sure the cupboards are well stocked.”

“Oh…but Lisa needs to rest before driving back, it’s such a long way, and I need to get to the bank,” Alma worried her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Well you can go to the bank now, it won’t close for another hour. Then I’ll prepare some dinner, and the two of you can sleep here tonight, you’ll have to share the guest room, but it’s a large bed, and I’ve got two sets of blankets.”

“Oh you don’t have to, Annika,” Lisa cut in, “I can get a hotel.”

“Don’t mention it,” Annika held up her hand, “Now I hope the two of you both like fish, it’s all I’ve got in this time of year.”

“Thank you so much,” Alma grasped Annika’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I really appreciate this.”

“Well, I can’t be sending you out in the cold, and I need to make sure you keep your appetite up. You’re eating for two now,” Annika gestured to Alma’s belly, and gave a cheeky wink.

“What…I… don’t…” Alma stuttered, eyes wide with surprise.

“It’s a woman’s intuition dear. You’ve been holding your hand over your stomach since you arrived. A mother fiercely protective of her precious cargo. Your Mother needed to be here when she had you, and you need to be here too,” Annika nodded decisively, “You’re home now, Alma.”


	18. Chapter Seventeen

It was another early morning for Alma, although she was pleased to say she’d slept better than the previous night. She felt safer in Vaxholm. Although she was known, it was only by name. She could walk down the street unbothered for now. It was a town stuck in the past, and the population was mostly older. 

The chance of Tom or his men finding her in the middle of the Archipelago would be nigh on impossible, and the fact that she’d made it this far meant for now, at least, she was safe.

There was a bank on the island, the chain of which she held a savings account. They allowed her access to the account where her profit from the villa went. The only outgoings from the account up until this point had been for the upkeep of the property, and a regular payment to Annika for managing the holiday rentals, but over ten years of letting out the beautiful villa meant there was more than enough money saved for Alma to live on for a while. Also, Alma figured that Tom wouldn’t think to look for foreign bank accounts. Her Mormor’s Villa had always been a place she’d wanted to forget about. It did not hold awful memories, but the memories it did hold were just a little too painful.

To her the profit she made from the villa had never been more than a little saving pot for the future. A pot which she’d never intended to dip into so soon.

Lisa left late morning, but not without a package of enough food to last her the journey home from Annika, and also insistence that a hotel be booked for her to break her journey. Alma ensured she had enough currency to refill her fuel on the return journey and the friends hugged tightly.

“Keep in touch?” Lisa begged.

“Of course, you’ll come back before the baby comes, won’t you?” Alma asked, “I’d like you to be here?”

“Really?” Lisa looked surprised.

“Well I’ll need someone with me. I’d like it to be you.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Lisa promised.

It felt strange watching her friend drive away, and knowing that next time she saw her she’d likely be heavily pregnant. It felt even stranger that for the first time in a long time, once again, Alma was truly alone.

Granted, she had Annika. But once she was on the smaller Island, she’d probably only see her Great Aunt once every couple of weeks, especially as the waters were already freezing over and it wasn’t even the height of winter.

Alma also managed to get a short appointment with a Doctor, thanks to Annika’s contacts on the island. Alma visited the small hospital, was registered and had her bloods taken. Then she was booked in for a scan in a fortnights time. 

Annika helped Alma stock up on food, and insisted upon a new wardrobe of suitable clothes. The wardrobe she’d arrived with was limited. She had only the clothes on her back, and whilst they might be suitable for a British winter, they were not designed for the sub-zero temperatures she would experience on the Archipelago.

It was mid-afternoon by the time Alma boarded the small water taxi, designed to break through the sheets of ice. Bill greeted her, having been filled in by his mother, and assisted Alma with her bags.

The villa was on a smaller island in the middle of the Archipelago. Around twenty minutes by boat from Vaxholm. About an hour from the centre of Stockholm by water. All the villas dotted across the thousands of islands which made up the Stockholm Archipelago were different in their designs. Some were no more than little huts tucked beneath trees, uphill from the water’s edge. Some were the only property on the island. Others were much more lavish, almost palatial in their design.

Mormor’s Villa was just how Alma remembered it, and she’d not visited since before her father died. A large white house, with big windows stood on a slight hill, surrounded by trees. A small path came down from the house, and lead to a boat house and jetty. 

Bill secured the boat at the jetty, and assisted Alma off, then helped her with her bags of food and clothes.

“You’ll be alright?” Bill checked for the hundredth time, setting the items down on the doorstep, “Mum said there’s fresh sheets in the airing cupboard. Get the heating on as soon as you get in, as it’ll take a while to warm up. I wouldn’t risk taking the boat out, but you can call if you need me to pick you up and take you to the mainland.”

“I’ll be okay,” Alma assured him, “Thank you so much, Bill.”

“Well, I’ll be off, the night’s drawing in,” he was right, it was only just gone three o’clock, but the sky was already almost completely dark, “Don’t forget to drop in on the neighbours tomorrow. Let them know you’re here.”

“Of course,” Alma gave a tight smile. So much for staying under the radar.

There were four other properties on the island, although there was a decent space between each one, it was a good ten minute walk to her nearest neighbour.

Having waved Bill off and shutting the front door behind her, once she’d seen him jump back into his boat and heard the engine start, Alma turned on the lights and took a look around the lobby.

It was a little brighter than she remembered, although that was probably owing to the redecoration throughout. It had been modernised over the years in order to cater to the tourists who booked their holidays there. The photographs that used to adorn the walls were no longer there, her Mormor used to have hundreds of photos hanging around the house. Annika said they were all stored in the attic if Alma wanted to go through them and put some up.

She wasn’t sure if she could face that. Seeing photos of her Mother and Father, or of her as a baby.

The house was still just as lovely as she remembered it though, and it was oddly and unexpectedly comforting. As she put her food away in the large open plan kitchen, she remembered running across the tiles bare foot as a child, chasing the dog usually.

After her Mother passed, she’d spent two weeks of every summer at this house in the care of her Mormor. Her father and her maternal grandmother did not get along well. Alma only understood later on that her Mormor blamed her father’s absence during Alma’s early months for her Mother’s death. To some extent, Alma understood, it must have been awful watching her daughter suffer, and not being able to help. But ultimately, her father was a serviceman, and her mother had known what she was signing up for when she married him. Serving his country was always going to come first.

There was a chill in the house, where it had gone un-warmed by the central heating system for most of the winter months, and a smell of damp in the air, presumably from the recent flooding in the basement. But it was well furnished and comfortable. Alma knew she could made a home there.

Alma forewent supper, too tired to cook, and really wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. She found fresh sheets in the airing cupboard, and made up the bed in the room she used as a girl. Although these days the single twin bed was gone, and a small double was in its place. She wasn’t sure if she’d continue to use this room, or move herself into the master bedroom, but for now she needed the comfort of something vaguely familiar.

However, when she climbed under the duvet and pulled it to her chin, despite the comfort of the soft mattress and cosy pillows, sleep did not come.

It was quiet on the island, but not silent. The sound of the water washing up on the shore just down the hill could be heard, and despite the cold weather, the wildlife at night was still well and truly present and awake.

But it was as she listened to the waves, and the animals outside, that the reality of her situation hit her. She was alone, and she was pregnant. She’d left Tom.

Her heart clenched in her chest and a sob escaped her lips.

She hated him. Not just because of what he’d tried to do with those children. But for how he’d treated her. The cottage hurt most of all, the place he’d gifted her as a sign of his love and commitment. A place which was hers and gave her financial security no matter what happened to him. But now she saw it for what it was. A cover up. If the little cottage was registered in her name, it held no connection with him, yet he still held enough control to use it as he needed. It was never hers, not really.

Most of all she hated that he’d ever approached her that day in the library. That he’d ever taken an interest in her, and pulled her into his life, and made her fall in love with him.

Because the fact that she loved him, made letting him go that much more painful.

You couldn’t just turn those feelings off.

∞

“She said no.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, she said no,” Ben repeated, waltzing from the office doorway to the small bar on the far side of Tom’s office in The Emerald Lounge, “You can hardly blame her.”

“You did explain the alternative?”

“I did nothing of the sort. You’re not firing her. She’s great at her job.”

“Which is why I’d prefer her here.”

“No, Tom. You want Jessica where you can see her, in case Alma contacts her,” Ben responded bluntly, “And this wouldn’t be an issue if you hadn’t put a bullet through Osman’s skull.”

“I’ll put one through yours too, if you don’t watch your mouth,” Tom hissed, striding from his desk and snatching the cut crystal decanter from his friends hand before he could pour himself a drink.

“Jess doesn’t trust you, and you can’t blame her. Her best friend disappeared under dodgy circumstances, and all she knows is that whatever reason Alma had for leaving, it had everything to do with you,” Ben continued, unperturbed by Tom’s threat. It wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to him like that, and despite the ease in which he’d killed Brie, Tom would never turn on him.

“She said all that?”

“She didn’t fucking need to,” Ben shot back, “The fact she’s still working for you at all is a blessing. We can keep a close eye on her within the hotel. I’ll continue to take care of the management of this place for now… wait,” Ben stopped seeing Tom fetch his jacket and throw it on, swiftly checking his phone before stashing it in his pocket and heading for the door without a word, “Where are you going?”

“Got a date.”

“Date!” Ben exclaimed, marching after his friend, “Wait, Tom…mate, stop.”

“I’m not your fucking mate,” Tom growled, swinging round grabbing Ben any the collar, “And you have absolutely no right telling me what I can and can’t do. I’ve had enough of your patronising shit. I’ve had enough of everything right now, and I just want a fucking break alright. I want to get drunk, I want to laugh, and I want the kind of sex which only money can buy. And what I want more than anything is to do all of that without you looking at me like I’m some kicked fucking puppy.”

He let go of Ben’s collar roughly shoving him away, and Ben stumbled before he regained his balance.

“Tom, I know you’re hurting –”

“Stop trying to tell me how I’m feeling,” Tom shouted, but his eyes betrayed him, they were red and glassy, full of unshed tears.

“Alright,” Ben finally relented, holding both hands up in surrender, “Just…you know where I am if you need me. Yeah?”

“Whatever,” Tom flew from the office, the door slamming in Ben’s face.

∞

“Is everything okay?” Alma nibbled her bottom lip nervously, as the sonographer moved the doppler over her soft belly. She wasn’t showing yet, though that wasn’t really surprising. She’d never had a perfectly flat stomach, she’d always been a little flabby around the middle. Alma hadn’t noticed any real changes in her body yet, but she could only be a few weeks gone at most.

“Perfect,” the Sonographer responded, in heavily accented, but precise English, “Although you look to be a little further on than expected,” he turned the screen to show Alma what he was seeing, and to her surprise, Alma could immediately recognise the very clear outline of a tiny human form wiggling around on the grainy black and white screen.

“Oh!” she exclaimed.

“Measurements suggest the gestation is about sixteen weeks and five days. Would you like to know the gender?”

“You can tell already?”

“Yes, if you’d like to know?”

Alma wasn’t sure. She hadn’t thought she was anywhere near that far gone, and hadn’t so much as considered the sex of the baby or if she even wanted to know. But given her current situation perhaps knowing the gender would give her more familiarity.

“Yes, yes please.”

“Very well, you are having a baby boy,” the Sonographer continued to point out various parts on the scan, but his words fell on deaf ears, and Alma felt suddenly numb.

A son?

Tom would have a son.

A son he would never know about.

“Everything looks perfectly healthy, which is good, seeing as you’ve gone through your first trimester without knowing. Here are some photos,” he set the print outs on the little wooden table beside her, “I will leave you to clean up and get dressed.”

“Th…thank you,” Alma mumbled, as she was left alone to let the news sink in.

Annika was delighted when Alma broke the news later that afternoon. She immediately prattled on about having to get some wool so she could knit some blankets and cardigans. Then the inevitable question came.

“Will you be telling the father he is having a son?”

Alma knew she couldn’t avoid these questions forever. She was asking a lot of her Great Aunt, having more of less pretended like that part of her family didn’t exist for over a decade. Yet, Annika had welcomed her back with open arms and showed no reaction other than utter delight that she’d finally ‘Come home’.

“No…no I won’t,” Alma shook her head, “He won’t be involved.”

“Alma –”

“Please, Annika, don’t ask me about him. Please,” Alma pleaded. She didn’t want to lie to Annika. She didn’t want the older women to think she could be in danger, “He’s not a good person, that’s all you need to know. He’s someone I shouldn’t have got involved with. Me and my baby are better off without him. Please trust me. We have everything we need here.”

“Of course, practically speaking, you could want for nothing. But emotionally…I’m not so sure,” Annika took Alma’s hand and held it up, bringing Alma’s attention to the beautiful ring still adorning her left hand, “This ring is difficult to miss. It’s very special, the person who put it on your finger clearly loves you a great deal. The fact you’re still wearing it tells me, you still love him too.”

Alma snatched her hand away, and took a deep breath the centre herself, “It’s just a ring.”

“Okay,” Annika nodded calmly, “Very well. Please just know that I worry. Remember I watched your mother carry you, and birth you, she was alone, and the pain of your fathers absence killed her.”

“She was not alone! She had Mormor, she had you, she had me!” Alma finally snapped, the emotion getting all too much for her, “My Dad didn’t kill her. She killed herself!”

Later on Alma would blame her hormones for such an emotional outburst. She’d always prided herself on her ability to stay calm and not let her emotions get the better of her. She wasn’t a big crier, certainly not in front of others, and whilst there had been one or two occasions in which she’d let Tom see her cry, most of the time she saved her tears for when she was alone.

Annika had lived a long life, and knew a broken heart when she saw one. So she just took Alma into her arms, told her she was there for her, and promised her she wouldn’t ask again, but if Alma ever wanted to talk, she was there.

That afternoon, just as the sun was setting, Alma stood on the end of her Jetty, wrapped up in multiple layers to protect herself from the icy Baltic sea air. She tugged off her glove and looked at the ring.

When Tom had placed it on her finger just a few months earlier, she’d thought it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She’d never owned anything so exquisite. But now it had lost its appeal. Now it was just an overpriced piece of metal, embedded with some expensive shiny rocks. It’s meaning had been what was beautiful, but it’s meaning had been a lie.

Before Alma could change her mind, she pulled the ring from her finger, and without a second thought she launched it out into the frozen waters of the Archipelago. It vanished from her sight and Alma waited for a moment. For what she wasn’t sure? For a weight to lift, maybe? For the pain to subside?

Neither of those things happened, and when the sky started to darken further, Alma turned and made her way back into the house.

∞

She was too skinny.

Not in a lean, athletic way, where muscles existed in place of body fat. But in a malnourished, starved herself for the sake of vanity sort of way.

Tom sat in the armchair of the hotel sweet and watched the woman sprawled out on the king size bed. Completely naked, her fingers working between her legs. She was making the most god-awful noises as she pleasured herself. Tom sipped his single malt and rolled his eyes.

“Are you not going to join me?” the woman propped herself up, and winked at Tom, she sucked her fingers clean and beckoned him towards her.

“Did I tell you stop?” he snapped, harshly and the woman’s eyes widened momentarily. She shook her head, “Then…as you were.”

She didn’t complain. Afterall, he was paying her to do exactly as he asked. Instead she propped herself up on some more pillows, and returned to her one woman show, this time a hand covered one of her breasts. Perfectly round, and absolutely fake, if Tom looked closely enough he could see the faint white scarring on the undersides and around the nipples.

He wasn’t even hard.

“Fuck yourself on your fingers,” Tom instructed, lazily, and took another draw from his glass, finishing it off. He set it down and picked up the bottle, pouring himself another measure.

“I can’t sir…my nails…” the girl panted, briefly holding up her hand to show off her bright pink talons, sharply pointed at the ends with diamante details, before she returned to fingering her clit, rubbing quick circles over it.

“They seem rather impractical for a woman in your profession,” Tom commented offhandedly, “Get dressed.”

“What?” the girl panted, hips shaking as she approached her climax.

“I said, get dressed. I’m bored.”

She did a poor job of hiding her displeasure as she stopped her ministrations and closed her legs. She pulled herself to the edge and approached Tom, swaying her hips as she drew nearer.

“We can always do something else… if you’re bored. I have some fun suggestions,” she slipped to her knees, and reached a hand out towards his crotch, her fingers barely grazed the fabric covering his still flaccid cock.

Tom grabbed the girl by the wrist, with a grip so tight any harder and he could genuinely snap it, and she would definitely be left with some nasty bruising.

“Keep your dirty, tramp hands off of me,” he growled, slamming his tumbler down and yanking the naked girl off the floor. He dragged her across the room, and she cried out at the pain in her arm. He swung open the door and threw her out into the hallway. She landed roughly on the fine carpeted floor in a messy, undignified, heap.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked, arms instantly wrapping across her chest to cover herself.

Tom didn’t answer. He simply disappeared back in the room, long enough to grab the scrap of pink fabric she’d worn that even from the floor and chuck it out into the hallway beside her. Then he slammed the bedroom door, and called security to remove her from the premises.

Tom stripped out of his suit, paying no mind to the buttons which flew off his shirt in his haste to be rid of it. Then he stormed through to the lavish bathroom and turned on the shower.

Under the cascade of hot water, Tom tipped his head back and lead it wash his tears away. What was wrong with him?

Alma was gone. He owed her nothing. She broke her promise to never leave him.

But the thought of fucking anyone else turned his stomach.

The expensive hooker, technically speaking, would have been a fantastic fuck. He’d specifically asked for her, because he had it on good authority that she was extremely skilled – orally speaking.

But everything about her revolted him.

That was new.

She was a woman. She had big fake tits, and a warm cunt. As a man that was all he’d ever needed.

As far as skill went, Alma had never been particularly excellent in any department. She was good. They had a great sex life. Sex with Alma had been the best he’d ever had. But that had nothing to do with her technique. But only now was Tom realising this.

Tom groaned and dropped his hand down, reluctantly grasping his now erect cock.

Just the thought of her. Her perfect body, soft and shapely. Just the right height for him, and sturdy enough that he could do whatever he wanted with her, and she let him. She always let him. The complete trust she put in him was such a fucking turn on.

His hand moved over his shaft, faster now.

Alma was gorgeous. Natural. Her breasts were big, two good handfuls, and her nipples small and pink against her pale flesh. Her hips were wide, and her thighs luscious. Her cunt…no…being as crass as to call it a cunt was doing it a disservice. Her womanhood was heavenly. Neatly trimmed curls decorated just at the apex of her thighs. When her legs spread, her labia was soft, and pink. Always glistening for him. Her clit was on the smaller side, and took a little encouragement to coax it out from under its hood.

Then there was her tight, hot channel.

How she would clench around him, how she fit him like she was made for him.

“Fuck!” the word left his lips in an angry shout as he spilled into his own hand, and his seed washed down the drain with the hot shower water.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

Alma wasn’t sure if it was the orgasm which had pulled her from her sleep, or the realisation that it was in fact, a dream.

It wasn’t the first time it had happened either. Actually it was the fourth or fifth in as many days.

Each time, Alma was drawn from her sleep by waves of pleasure crashing down over her, a hand wedged between her thighs, her fingers soaked, and Tom’s face still fresh in her mind.

She hated herself for it. She spent each day doing all she could not to think about him, but the minute she let her guard down by falling asleep, he would continue to plague her memories. The worst part – it felt so good.

One of the pregnancy books she’d picked up said in the second trimester increased energy was normal, as was an increased sex drive. Apparently, sex dreams and climaxing in ones sleep was not uncommon either throughout pregnancy either. The books said nothing about those dreams centring around her ex-lover.

The rational part of Alma’s brain, once she’d fully woken up, put it down to the fact that Tom was her most recent lover. It had nothing to do with her lingering feelings, or wanting him back in any way. In fact that was the very last thing she wanted.

But she’d been in Sweden almost three months now, and she was settling into her new life. Alma knew that it wouldn’t be possible to completely forget Tom. Not when she was growing his child inside her. But she hoped one day she could move on from the sense of longing she felt following these pesky erotic dreams.

She supposed it didn’t help that she’d made a new friend over the past few weeks. A local who’d been helping her out with a few things around the house. Alma had never been one to leer at men, but she couldn’t deny her new friend was very easy on the eye. And it was plainly obvious that he liked her too.

Alex was older than Alma, by a fair amount. Fourteen years older to be precise. He was also divorced, and had a son who he saw every other weekend. He was born and raised in Stockholm, but his Mother lived in Vaxholm these days and that’s how Alma had met him.

It had been just after Christmas, which Alma had spent with Annika after much harassment on the older woman’s behalf. Alma was not to spend the festive period alone on the small island, alone. So she spent a couple of nights on the ‘mainland’ enjoying the festivities. Afterwards, she’d seen an advert in the paper for some baby furniture and had gone to have a look. It just so happened that it was Alex’s Mum selling the furniture she’d had at her house from when her grandchildren were younger (Alex was the youngest of three children). He was visiting, and when he realised Alma was planning on transporting the dis-assembled cot and changing table on her own, he immediately stepped in to help.

Alex ended up loading all the wood into the water taxi and then unloading it the other end. By which point Alma couldn’t avoid offering him a coffee for his help. That lead to him offering to assemble the furniture in the small bedroom. Which lead to Alma offering him dinner, for his trouble.

Like most Swede’s he spoke fluent English, but their conversation slipped between English and Swedish easily and Alma found herself enjoying his company. He was extremely easy going, but also very smart. He was an architect by trade, and was fascinated by Alma’s own area of study.

Alma had to admit, it was nice having someone with whom she shared common interests to talk to. She didn’t realise how lonely she’d been feeling, and having a friend was nice. After that first visit, a fortnight later Alex was back, turning up on her doorstep with a toolbox and offering to help out with some odd jobs which he’d noticed needed doing.

Having the help around the house was nice. DIY was a bit beyond Alma, and Alex could do things like put up shelves, or change the light fittings. He also helped with re-plastering the basement and putting some new lino down. He was helping her make the villa a home and she couldn’t be more grateful. Although she did insist that she certainly didn’t expect his help, he seemed more than happy to turn up on the weekends he didn’t have his son, and spend the time with her.

They’d grown close and Alma liked that Alex didn’t expect much. He didn’t ask her questions about her past, and he seemed more than happy just to be her friend. Although she couldn’t pretend she’d not seen him watching her when she wasn’t looking, or that she’d noticed how his cheeks went slightly pink when she complimented him.

Today he was painting the bedroom. The small one which she’d told him she would probably use as a nursery. Although when he offered to decorate for her, she argued that it was far too early. Alex told her from his experience, doing things like preparing the nursery, helped mentally prepare for welcoming a baby into your life. Being able to see their place in the home. Alma wasn’t sure, but it was worth a shot, because she was still feeling fairly separate from the baby she was growing within her.

Alex must have sensed her apprehension about impending motherhood. Whenever he brought up the subject of the baby, she got a bit touchy.

“I like it,” Alma stood in the doorway to the smallest bedroom, admiring the very pale olive green now coating the walls.

“Yes, better than blue,” Alex agreed, turning from where he was painting around the window, “You shouldn’t be in here though…paint fumes.”

“It’s fine,” Alma waved her hand dismissively, “Listen, I know it’s getting a bit late, and you’ll probably want to head off. But if you did want dinner, there’s plenty.”

“As much as I’d love to say yes, I wouldn’t want to miss the boat,” Alex replied apologetically, “Maybe next time?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re always welcome. I just feel bad. You slaving away all day. Plus…I kind of like the company,” Alma admitted, with a shrug.

“It’ll be easier when the days get a bit longer,” Alex suggested, as he started putting away the paints, “I’ll finish up here, and then be down.”

“Alright. I’ll put some lasagne in a lunchbox. You can heat it up when you get home.”

Alex chuckled and shook his head, “You’re too good, Ally.”

But when Alma got back downstairs, a notification was flashing on her phone. It was from the local water bus service. Visibility was too poor on the water, and they’d stopped all boats for the day. They should be running as normal by morning.

“Erm…Alex…It’s looks like you’ll be staying after all.”

∞

“Tom?” Ben looked up from the desk, surprised to see his boss entering the office unannounced, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

He looked a little worse for wear, which was unusual for Tom, who was almost always immaculately turned out. But today he’d forgone a tie, and the top few buttons of his shirt were open. His hair was dishevelled and he had a good layer of scruff on his jaw. Most worrying was the thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Well I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I needed to let you know every time I want to get a drink in my own bar,” Tom snarked, and for the first time, Ben noticed the bottle of beer in his friends hand. He sauntered across the room and slumped in the chair opposite. He was clearly drunk.

“Fucking hell, Tom. It’s not even eleven o’clock,” Ben commented, sitting back in his chair and taking in the man opposite him, “What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s been almost three months, that’s what’s wrong. Three fucking months.”

“Tom, we’re doing everything we can, I’ve got a couple of leads on this Lisa Roth, I’ve got an address she moved from a few years back, we should have a forwarding address soon. I’ve got markers on all Alma’s accounts, she’s going to run out of money eventually,” Ben explained, “But seriously, mate, I think you need to let this go. I know we made a big loss, but all things considered it could have been worse.”

It was true. Although it had made national news that the children had been returned to their mother, following being dropped off at a police station near Salisbury, nothing had been said about how they’d made it there. Inside sources said the children didn’t know who had rescued them, and the police were more interested in who’d taken them in the first place. But they had absolutely nothing to go on. Just days later Clint Boswell was arrested, after a hotel receptionist at a remote guest house in Scotland had recognised him from the papers. He was safely back behind bars, and the threat of what would happen to him, if he so much as mentioned Tom or his men, meant he would not be opening his mouth. Yes, Tom was down several million pounds. But his reputation was still intact and the police were none the wiser of his involvement.

“Let it go?” Tom asked, incredulously, “You expect me to let it fucking go?”

“She doesn’t want to be found, Tom. Honestly, I don’t blame her. She knows it’s in her best interest to stay away. What are you going to do with her, if we find her?”

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

“She’s not worth it, Tom. I really think –” Ben stopped when his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and then at Tom, before answering, “Yes, what have you got?”

Ben was quiet as he listened to the person on the other end. Then he thanked them and ended the call.

“We’ve got an address for Lisa Roth.”

∞

“I’ve made up the bed in the front bedroom,” Alma explained, joining Alex in the sitting room. After explaining that the boats had stopped running, she’d had no choice but to offer him a bed for the night.

He’d been overly grateful, but was clearly a bit uncomfortable about the situation. Afterall, they might be friends, but they didn’t know each other that well. But once they’d eaten, and Alma offered a drink – she’d found some beers left by some previous holiday tenants in the cupboard which were still in date – he’d made himself at home, and actually seemed to be enjoying the impromptu dinner and drinks.

“Thanks, Ally,” she liked that he called her Ally. Really only Lisa had ever called her that, and it was nice. It felt like a different identity in a way, “But please sit down, you’re doing too much.”

“I’m not an invalid,” she chuckled as she sat next to him on the sofa, and rested a hand over her belly. She was showing now. It still wasn’t a huge bump, and when she went out with in all her layers, you couldn’t really tell. But now she just wore her pyjama bottoms and long sleeve jersey top. It fit where it touched and the swell of her twenty-five week pregnant belly was obvious.

“Is he moving?”

“Yeah, he’s always really active in the evenings.”

“Can I feel?” As soon as he asked, Alex back tracked, “I’m sorry, I mean… obviously you can say no.”

“Erm, no, it’s okay. I don’t think you can really feel him from the outside yet,” Alma reached for Alex’s hand and put it over her bump. Alex’s large palm covered her belly, and he shuffled closer so he didn’t have to stretch.

“Oh wow, it’s much…softer than I thought it would be,” he said with surprise, as his fingers gently pressed into her flesh and Alma giggled.

“It’s mostly lasagne, I’ll be honest.”

“Oh, no! I didn’t mean that,” Alex looked mortified that he’d offended her, but she shook her head, “I meant it in a nice way, I promise.”

“I believe you.”

“Have you thought of any names yet?” he asked, moving his hand a little lower to follow the small curve and feel for any movement.

“Not really,” Alma admitted, “I thought about naming him after my Dad, but it feels weird calling a baby Brian.”

“I see your point,” Alex laughed and nodded with agreement, “What about his Dad?”

Alex hadn’t asked until that point and as soon as he did, Alma tensed up and he pulled his hand away from her belly.

“Erm, no, there’s not… I mean. Of course there is a Dad, but he’s not around. He won’t be around,” she shook her head quickly, and forced a smile.

“That’s okay,” Alex nodded in understanding, “Actually…well… I’m kind of relieved.”

“Relieved?” Alma frowned.

“Yes…fuck…erm…this is going to sound very weird, and I know you’re probably not thinking about this at all, and it’s really, very inappropriate for me to even bring this up. But I’d been wanting to ask about the erm…father. Because, I didn’t want to overstep.”

“Not at all,” Alma shook her head, “You’re not over stepping, Alex. I appreciate everything you’ve being doing.”

“Well, I’ve sort of been looking for excuses to keep seeing you. I know that’s a bit weird.”

“Yeah…A bit, I guess,” Alma shifted, “Listen, Alex, I’m really flatter –”

Alex’s mouth was on hers before she could finish her sentence, and seconds before, if she had thought about whether she wanted to kiss him or not, she knew for a fact the answer would have been definitely not. So when he made that move, as unexpected as it was, and perhaps she shouldn’t have given him that beer, she shocked even herself, that her first reaction was not to pull away, but to wrap her arms around him and pull him closer still.

“I just wanted you to know I like you,” Alex said breathlessly, when he finally pulled back, “But I get, with the baby and everything, it’s probably the worst time for you.”

“It’s not a good time,” Alma admitted, and licked her lower lip, missing the warmth of his mouth on hers. He was a nice kisser, and a small fire was now burning in the pit of her tummy, “But…that was nice. I liked that.”

Alex smiled. He had a nice smile too, a winning smile.

“We can do it again if you like?”

“I think I’d like that.”

This time it was Alma who moved in on Alex, manoeuvring herself so she could embrace him comfortably, and their lips met once more. He was so gentle with her, holding her in his arms as he kissed her, in a series of small, sweet pecks. Then she nipped his lower lip, and parted hers so their tongues could move together.

His hands moved over her body, over her hips and bum, and then back up, squeezing gently at her sensitive breasts, drawing a quiet whimper from her throat. Within minutes Alma found herself on her back on the sofa, with Alex braced over her.

“Tell me if this is too much, or if you want me to stop.”

“Honestly, if you stop now, I might explode,” Alma admitted, with a gasp, as his fingers connected with her centre over the fabric of her pyjama bottoms.

“I can feel how wet you are,” Alma’s cheeks heated from his observation. Of course she was wet, she was pregnant, and horny and hadn’t had sex in months. All rationality had gone out the window, and all she could really think about was the attractive man kissing her, and his big hands running over her body. There was something to be said about older men, and the sureness of how he was touching her.

Alma couldn’t stop the whine that escaped her lips when his fingers slipped beneath the fabric of her pyjama bottoms and immediately delved between her legs. He used the wetness of her arousal to help his fingers slide over her clit with ease. Pregnancy was definitely playing a huge part in how wet and swollen she was, Alma wasn’t going to pretend it was anything else.

It was like all the blood in her body had rushed to that one area, and she was hyper sensitised to every single touch. Lips caught hers swallowing her moans, and when they finally released her, she gasped out.

“Oh…oh, Tom!”

∞

“Fraulein Roth?” Lisa stopped at the main door of her apartment building, just she was about to let herself in. Hearing her name took her by surprise, but more so because despite being addressed in her own language, the accent behind it was clearly anything but German.

“Ja?” she turned to find a well suited man who had appeared seemingly from no where, now standing behind her, “Kann ich Ihnen irgendwie helfen?” 

“My names Benedict, I’m here on behalf of my boss, regarding a friend of yours.”

Alma had prepped her on this. This was always a possibility, and Lisa had been on edge about the possibility of a visit from Tom or one of his men. Alma had even specifically named Benedict, and the man stood in front of her fitted the description well. Handsome, if a little odd looking, older, well dressed. Charming was another word.

Lisa frowned at the man before her, and did her best to feign confusion.

“Es tut mir leid –”

“Let’s not play games, Fraulein,” Benedict cut her off quickly, “In English, please.”

Lisa pursed her lips, and nodded.

“How can I help you?”

“Would I be able to come inside?” Benedict asked her, gesturing to the front door, but Lisa shook her head and stood firm, “Very well, I’d like to talk about a Miss. Alma George.”

“Yes?”

“You know her?”

“Of course I do,” Lisa nodded, “She’s one of my oldest friends.”

“Well, do you know where she is?”

Lisa shrugged, “Not now, she likes to travel.”

“But she was here, wasn’t she? She flew into Hamburg some three months ago, and you picked her up at a bus stop about an hour from here.”

“Is…is she in trouble? Are you the police?” Lisa pretended to look over Ben for some sort of identifier of who he was working for.

“No, I’m not the police,” Ben shook his head, “And I very much hope your friend isn’t in any trouble. That’s why I’d like to find her, you see? Listen, if I could come in we can have a chat. I’d just like some more information. Any way in which you could help.”

“My fiancé has been working nights and is asleep now,” Lisa replied, and that was the truth, “Alma was here, you’re right. She stayed for one night, then I took her to the bus station. She didn’t tell me where she was going. She just said she needed a break. She was going to see what the best deal she could get on a ticket was.”

Ben gave her a hard look.

“Very well, did she seem… okay?”

“Not at all,” Lisa shook her head, “I assume you work for Tom?”

Ben looked surprised to be asked outrightly about this, but he nodded, “You’d assume correctly.”

“Well, she didn’t say what had happened, just that they’d broken up. She was pretty upset about it all. She just said she needed to get away for a bit. That’s her thing you know? She’s always been a nomad. If she’s upset, she travels.”

Again, it wasn’t a lie, not completely. Alma did like to travel.

“Quite. Well…Tom is also extremely upset by how things between them ended, and he’s very concerned for her wellbeing. Did she give you any way of contacting her?”

“No,” Lisa shook her head, “She’ll be okay though. She’s used to being on her own, tell Tom not to worry. She’ll come home when she’s ready.”

“You’re certain of that?”

“Yes,” Lisa nodded, “Look, I really need to go.”

“Of course,” Ben nodded, “Take care, Miss, Roth.”

“Yeah, you too. Sorry for your wasted journey, and that I can’t help you anymore.”

“Trust me. You’ve helped more than you think,” Ben told her, and with that Lisa hurried inside, knowing she somehow needed to warn Alma what had just happened.

Meanwhile, once he was back inside his waiting car, Ben turned to Tom who sat in the driver’s seat.

“She admitted Alma was here. But she only stayed one night,” Ben recounted what Lisa had just told him.

“Is she telling the truth?”

“Partially,” Ben responded with a short nod, “She’s not here anymore. I don’t think we need to get inside the apartment. She was surprised to see me, which means I very much expect she thought she’d see us sooner. But I’m certain she knows where Alma is. She was a little too forward with information for my liking.”

“So we bring her in,” Tom said, decisively.

“We can’t do that. It’s too risky. She’s a freelance journalist, she writes for some really high profile publications. Plus, she cohabits with her fiancé. She’d be reported missing too quickly.”

“Then what now?”

“She said she took her to the coach station the following morning. We’ll see if we can find out where Alma went. Or if we can disprove what she’s saying.”

Tom fell quiet, and appeared to be deep in thought for a while.

“There’s no point us being here. We should go home,” he said eventually.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Tom hissed, and started the car engine, “We need to pay Jessica another visit.”

“Listen, Tom, I really think we need to leave Jess alone.”

“I want another sweep of the house.”

“We’ve looked everywhere, mate.”

“No…_we _haven’t looked everywhere. _You’ve_ looked everywhere. I want to look myself.”

“Very well.”

∞

“That’s him isn’t it? Tom? The baby’s father?”

Alma wasn’t completely sure why Alex had abruptly pulled his hand from her body and put an immediate stop to what was going on between them. Her brow had furrowed, and her breath came out in short pants, she was about to ask what the hell he was playing at, then those words left his mouth.

And immediately, Alma realised her monumental mistake.

“Oh my goodness…oh god, Alex. I’m sorry,” she reached for his hands, but he moved them away and put a space between them.

“You do know my name then?” She couldn’t blame him, of course he was pissed off. She’d just moaned another guys name, whilst he was the one pleasuring her.

“Alex, really, I didn’t…I…” before she could even stop it, her eyes welled with tears, and her hands flew to her face. It was hot with embarrassment, and frustration that once again she couldn’t get a hold on her emotions.

“Shit, no…Ally, don’t cry. Fuck… this is my fault. I came on too strong.”

“No…no… honestly, this is not your fault. I should have said no, I just… I wasn’t thinking properly. I like you Alex, I really do. You’re sweet, and very attractive. But… I’m going to be honest, pregnancy is making me really…I just want sex all the time. And you’re here, and you like me back. But that’s not fair on you. Because… I can’t have a relationship right now.”

“Because you are still in love with him…Tom.”

“No!”

“Ally, you obviously are,” Alex reached for her hand now, and squeezed it gently within his own, “You just said his name. Whether you want to admit it or not, you can’t let anyone else in, when your heart still belongs to him. And that’s okay, Ally. You’re carrying his child, you’re not supposed to just be over him.”

“But…but I want to be,” Alma sobbed, frustration clear in her voice, “He’s such a bad person, and I really wish I could just…forget him. Do you hate me?”

“No!” Alex exclaimed, “I could never hate you. I mean… my prides a little hurt, I admit.”

“I’m sorry,” Alma reached out and pressed her palm to his cheek, “For what it’s worth… it felt really good.”

“You just wish it was someone else.”

“No… I just wish my brain would let me enjoy you,” Alma whispered, “But…it’s probably for the best right? I think… we got carried away. I never just jump into bed with people, and…I value your friendship. If… if you could wait, maybe one day?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ally,” Alex grinned, leaning forward and pushing a chaste kiss to her lips, “I’m here for you.”


	20. Chapter Nineteen

“You know, you have absolutely no right to be in here. I’ll call the police,” Andy, Jess’s boyfriend stood incredulous, and somewhat helpless, as Tom went through the drawers in the living room. Jessica was at work, perhaps rather conveniently, as he knew any threat he dished out would fall on deaf ears. She would cause him more trouble than it was worth.

“You will do no such thing,” Tom grumbled, rifling through a stack of paperwork.

“Hey, that’s Jess’,” Andy stepped forward, but the brute Tom had brought with him stopped him with a warning hand on his shoulder. 

“I’ll tell you exactly what I told Jessica. If you want to keep your jobs, this house, and this lovely little life you’ve got for yourselves then I suggest you let me do what I need to do,” Tom explained, discarding the paperwork carelessly. It was, in fact, all Jessica’s. Bank statements, phone bills and the like.

“Your man already did this all once. She’s not left anything here. A few old clothes, and that’s it. She took everything important to yours when she moved in.”

“Yet, before she left, she didn’t go to my house, she came here. So clearly she did leave something important here,” Tom marched up the stairs, and Andy followed, well aware that Tom’s paid help was on his back, making sure he didn’t step out of line.

“Jess handed over everything she could find. She’s worried about Alma too –”

“What’s up there?” Tom pointed upwards at the loft hatch in the upstairs landing.

“The attic…nothing. Just a bunch of old boxes. Mostly stuff that belonged to Alma’s Dad, I think. Photo albums and stuff,” Andy shrugged, clearly unaware of the importance of this information. But Tom’s eyes lit up.

He looked to the burly man at the top of the stairs and pointed gestured to him, impatiently, “Well, open it!”

The hatch was opened and the extendable ladder pulled down. Tom was pleased to find when he got to the top that it was boarded and a light pull lit up the surprisingly large space quite well. It was crammed with boxes and suitcases, all of which looked like they’d not been touched in years. He wiped his hand over the top of one such box, and coughed at the cloud of dust which billowed into the stale air.

‘Dad’s records’ it read in Alma’s recognisably neat hand writing.

Clearly, Ben’s thorough search had not included this part of the house. Though he was not surprised. Ben was excellent at his job, and in a lot of respects very insightful. He could tell a lie from a mile off, and he was so brilliantly charming, that Tom kept him around because he could spin a good yarn and mostly get the job done. But sometimes he missed the most important of details, and he certainly thought with his cock as opposed to his brain most of the time.

“Alright up there, sir?”

“Just fine,” Tom called back absently, as he crawled across the space and started checking the labels on all the boxes. He was looking for paper work, or photos. Anything which could give some kind of an idea where Alma might have gone. A CCTV check on the bus station near Lisa Roth’s apartment concluded that she had in fact lied about dropping her friend there that morning. But unfortunately, there was no CCTV on the parking lot by the building. Just the main entrance, Alma had left with Lisa that morning, and not returned. But Lisa had returned alone two days later. Ben concluded that Lisa took her somewhere, and likely drove.

But tracking a car journey via CCTV when you had no idea where that car was going was nigh on impossible.

Yanking out a box in the far corner, was when Tom struck gold. He nearly choked on his tongue when he saw the small metal safe, tucked under the eaves in the darkest part of the loft space. But he quickly realised it had already been emptied. The door was unlocked and all that was inside, strangely enough was Alma’s bank cards. The ones she hadn’t been using up until now, and this was why. She’d not taken even taken them with her. Nothing else was inside, though clearly there had been something. Tom pocketed the cards and continued his search.

Eventually his hand landed on a box of photo albums. Unlabelled and clearly unopened for many years. Inside, the box was tightly packed with those old fashioned wallet style albums in dark reds and blues. Labels on the edge of each one denoting the years. So Tom started flicking through.

Most of the photos were Alma as a child, none of her as baby, he noted. In the earliest she couldn’t have been younger than two. There was a man in many of them, some of them he wore uniform, so he guessed it was Alma’s father, but he’d never seen a photo of the man before, and he decided Alma must have taken after her mother, because he shared no features with Alma, except maybe his height, because she was not a short woman. He was tall and sturdy, with dark hair, and a moustache. He was quite handsome, Tom supposed.

It was the second album Tom found more interesting. Because in this album an older woman was present. A woman with white curly hair, and a round face. Alma sat on her knee on a paved terrace, and wherever it was it was near the water. As he went further through the albums he realised, this woman was clearly a relative of Alma’s. All these photos were taken in the summer, and all of them in a similar location. Tom had no idea where it was, but clearly Alma had spent a lot of time there in her childhood. He also had a good idea that wherever these photos were taken, was where Alma was now.

∞

“Sorry, I couldn’t tell you sooner. I was so worried he was watching me,” Lisa spoke down the phone, and Alma bit her lip, guilt turned her stomach. This was her fault, her poor friend had been terrified and worried sick for days before she managed to make contact and tell her about Ben’s visit.

“I’m so sorry, Lisa.”

“It’s not your fault and I’m okay. He didn’t seem dangerous. I don’t think he intended me any harm. He just…really wants to know where you are. But I guess the good thing is that it took him this long to find me.”

Alma didn’t want to scare Lisa, so she tried to sound as reassuring as possible, “You’ve done the right thing, you stuck to the plan. He’s got nothing to go on.”

“For now. What are you going to do, Ally?”

“Nothing. There’s not anything I can do, other than hope he doesn’t figure out where I am. I need to stay put, at least until the baby is here,” Alma sighed loudly, “If…if he does find me before. I… well I just hope he doesn’t.”

“And what about after? Is he likely to give up?”

“No…no, Tom doesn’t give up. If he finds me after… our plan stays the same, I’ll let you know if I can. If I can’t…then…I’ll find a way.”

“We could just…do it now. Call the authorities, tell them what he’s done.”

“No, there’s not enough evidence, and where he is now, he’s got too many allies. He needs to be here. But… let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Alma said as confidently as she could manage.

“I hope so,” Lisa replied weakly, “I’ll see you in a few weeks, yeah?”

“Yeah. Not long now.”

Lisa ended the call, and took the sim card out of the phone, and immediately flushed it down the toilet. She hoped beyond all hope, that she wouldn’t need to speak to Alma again before she joined her for the birth of the baby.

∞

“She never spoke of her childhood.”

“But she clearly had one. Maybe we should have looked a bit harder,” Ben flicked through the photos again, “Are you sure she was born in Germany?”

“I thought I was. But… I mean we can’t get any records of birth. She never even told me her mother’s name.”

“And you were together how long?”

“Well, she died when we was a baby, I don’t think she remembered anything about her. Seemed a touchy subject to bring up,” Tom snapped, and rested his hand in his hands, “If we could get a fucking birth certificate...then maybe…I mean it’s got to be a grandparent, right?”

“I would imagine so, she looks a little like Alma,” Ben squinted at the photo, “I don’t recognise the landscape, but…the building, the style. It rings a bell. I’m going to get these looked at.”

“Right…” Tom stood up and strode to the bar to fetch himself a drink.

“Mate, when was the last time you went home? You look knackered.”

“I can’t go home,” he knocked back a short of bourbon, without ice, “Her things are still there. The whole place… I just can’t go home.”

“You need to sleep.”

“I’ve warned you about telling me what I need, Benedict.”

Ben stood for a moment, and watched his friend. This wasn’t healthy, and he couldn’t pretend to understand what was going on in Tom’s mind. He didn’t even recognise the man in front of him now. Sure they both liked woman, perhaps Ben was a little more upfront about it. Tom had always cared too much about his reputation to risk getting overly involved. Before he had a few select escorts who were paid well to do as they were told. Tom had what he needed, and he enjoyed the occasional company. But in the many years in which Ben had known Tom, other than the relationship of convenience he’d shared with Brie, of that they were both guilty, Tom had never had a girlfriend. Ben knew for a fact that Tom didn’t had a clue how to be in a relationship. But Alma had bewitched him, without even meaning to.

He’d never thought for a moment that there was more to the pretty, if slightly plump and quirky young woman, that Tom had fallen for. She didn’t have any family, and that suited Tom well. But even when they’d separated, and he’d spent that time around her, she’d seemed so terribly normal.

But she’d made a huge mistake, involving herself in the deal with the kids. Because people who messed with Tom’s plans paid the price. Brie had worked for Tom for years, and despite their volatile relationship, Ben knew she was valued. Tom trusted her implicitly, and she betrayed him. So he killed her.

Ben feared what he might do to Alma when he got his hands on her.

If he’d learnt one thing about his friend since they’d known one another. Tom didn’t let grudges go, not without getting his revenge. Ben’s own father knew that first hand, and Ben had his whole career to show for Tom’s succinct sence of justice.

If they did find Alma. No…there was no ‘if’, Tom would find her. When they found Alma, Ben wondered if she’d meet a similar fate to Brie Osman?

“Wait…” Ben almost shouted, some errant memory catching him by surprise and he ran back across the room, office and started pulling out all the photos of a young Alma, with the older woman, “Alma…her name is Alma.”

“Yes,” Tom responded sardonically, “If you’re only just establishing that, we’ve got a real problem.”

“No… fucking hell, I know that… her,” Ben pointed at the grey haired woman, holding Alma on her hip, trousers rolled up, and standing ankle deep in the water, “This woman… is called Alma. She told me, once… I don’t even think she meant to. I asked her about her name, and she said she was named after her grandmother.”

“And you didn’t think to mention it before.”

“I honestly forgot mate, this was over two years back.”

“Well, does that help us?”

“It does. It definitely does, you see… I asked her if she was Spanish, Alma is quite a popular name in Spain, but she said no, she was Swedish.”

“Swedish?” Tom responded, dubiously, “Alma’s not Swedish.”

“She’s at the very least quarter Swedish on the maternal side, maybe half, if her grandfather was also. But here’s the thing, I asked her if she’d ever been, and she said no. But…she was lying. Because this here… these buildings in red, they are typical of a Swedish design. Now, I don’t know exactly where these photos were taken, but I am one hundred percent sure, these photos are taken in Sweden.”

∞

“I need to ask, Ally,” Lisa began, standing in the kitchen looking out onto the terrace, where Alex was working, making some repairs to the patio. It was the end of April, and still a bit chilly outside, but the days were finally longer. Alex however, was working hard, and had lost his shirt a while ago, a thin sheen of sweat coated his upper body, and his muscles flexed as he lifted a slab and placed it down, “How do you get anything done with that… hunky Viking, hanging around.”

Alma snorted with laughter, and peered out the window to appreciate the view, “Lovely, isn’t he?”

“Just a bit.”

“We’re just friends,” Alma clarified, “He’d like to be more, but obviously,” she pointed at her swollen belly, and Lisa grinned, resting a hand over it.

“You’re huge.”

“I’m a whale.”

“A sexy whale.”

“Yeah, sure,” Alma chuckled.

“This place is really great. It’s so…you. I know settling down never appealed to you, but if you’re going to do it, here is the place. You’re so lucky.”

Lisa had arrived that morning, having driven through the night to get there. Annika had been very confused about why Lisa wouldn’t just fly into Arlanda, but Alma insisted she liked the drive. Lisa had arranged to take a couple of weeks off work, and stay with Alma through the final weeks of her pregnancy. Though the doctor said labour wasn’t imminent, and it was likely she would go over due. But Lisa said it didn’t matter and she’d stay anyway, she’d brought her work laptop, and her fiancé definitely didn’t mind. Although Alma did feel a bit guilty taking her away for so long.

“I’d have never chosen this, but now I’m here, I’m glad,” Alma agreed, “I miss my job though.”

“Maybe one day you could get something in the city?”

“With a baby?” Alma raised an eyebrow, and shook her head, “No… no I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve had to leave that part of my life behind me.”

“Does he know?” Lisa nodded out the window, towards Alex once more, “About Tom?”

“He knows I have an ex called Tom,” Alma admitted, “He knows that who the baby’s father is, he doesn’t know anything else. It’s for the best I think.”

“What’s for the best?” Alex walked into the kitchen and kicked off his work boots.

“Oh, nothing,” Lisa mumbled.

Alma fetched a glass of cold water and handed it to Alex, giving him a cheeky wink as she did so.

“Thank you, beautiful,” he grinned, accepting the glass and chugging it down.

“So…erm…Alex. Do you go to the gym, or…?” Lisa trailed off, giving the man another approving appraisal.

“Er, yes, couple of times a week. But I’m more of a swimmer,” he explained, sitting down, and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Do you swim out there?” Lisa asked, pointing at the water.

“When I can. It’s still too cold,” he frowned at the odd line of questioning, then turned to Alma, “Are you alright, do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine, Alex, love,” Alma assured him, putting a hand over her belly, “This ones got his foot in my ribs, if I sit down it’ll make it worse.”

“I should probably head off, and leave you to girls to catch up,” he started, “Don’t walk on that patio for a few hours, let it set.”

“Of course, thank you. Will you visit in the week?” since the weather had warmed up, Alex had taken to trying to pop by at least one afternoon a week to make sure Alma had everything she needed. She hadn’t left the small island in weeks, Alex and Annika made sure she had enough supplies, and the midwife visited her at home. Alma was hoping for a home birth, although if she needed to go to the hospital, Annika had Bill on standby with the water taxi.

“Yes, I’ll come over Wednesday. Did you want me to grab anything for you from the city?” Alex asked, taking his phone from his pocket to make a list. He’d done this before. Stockholm was just better for shops. Alma had, had him pick up a few maternity clothes, from big stores, and a few baby bits before now.

“Actually, yes, could you grab me a couple of pairs of leggings, just black ones, don’t have to be expensive,” Alma fetched her purse, “I just figure I’ll need something comfortable to wear after baby comes, and I’m not likely to fit back into my jeans for a while.”

She handed him her card, “You won’t need this?”

“No,” Alma shook her head.

“No problem, I’ll see what I can find.”

Alex readied himself to leave and wished both the girls goodbye, before he got in the small boat which he owned. Now the weather was nicer he wasn’t relying on water buses so much. It was much easier to just come and go. He often made the journey straight from his flat in Södermalm, to her house by water. By the time he’d driven to Vaxholm and caught a waterbus, it was just as fast.

“Ugh, he’s a dream, Alma,” Lisa breathed, as they stood on the terrace and waved Alex off.

“Yeah, he’s wonderful,” Alma agreed, because he was. He was just so perfect.

But he wasn’t Tom.

∞

“Stop.”

Tom lifted his head, and reached for his phone which was vibrating on the bedside table. Ben’s name flashed on the screen and he groaned.

“I said stop!”

The woman knelt between his legs, with her mouth wrapped hotly around his cock, pulled back on the second command, and licked her lips. Claire was an old flame, and had been delighted when Tom had invited her back into his bed – or rather, the bed of the hotel room he booked when he had need of her.

“Make a drink,” he forced a smile at her and answered the call. At the same time he pulled himself off the bed, and made his way through to the lounge in the hotel suite. He stumbled as he did, an effect of the copious glasses of champagne he’d put back, in order to enjoy Claire’s company. Not that she was boring, or bad at what she did. He was just too distracted whenever he let himself get too sober.

“Benedict. You always call at the most inopportune times.”

“I think, when I tell you my reason for interrupting your shag, you’ll be most appreciative,” Ben’s words were humoured, but his tone was not.

“This better be good?” Tom shrugged on a hotel issue robe, pulling it together with one hand, and accepting the drink which the good little whore was now offering him.

“We’ve found her.”

Tom coughed, as the Moet went down the wrong way, and caught in his throat. Had he heard that right?

“Are you sure?”

“Jenson is on his way,” Ben continued, “You’ll be flying to Arlanda, Stockholm, I’ve chartered a flight to depart from London City in an hour. Be ready. I’ll explain on the way.”

∞

Elias Thomas George arrived a week early.

It was all quite unexpected in the end, and Alma had been glad of Lisa’s insistence on arriving two weeks prior to her due date. Despite the midwife telling her on her last visit that the baby was head down, but not engaged, just two nights later, Alma woke desperate for a wee, and when she sat on the toilet, her waters went in the most violent and loudest gush. So loud that it woke Lisa who had been sleeping in the front bedroom.

But her contractions didn’t start, and not wanting to risk infection, the midwife advised over the phone that a home birth was not recommended. Unfortunately, the maternity ward in Vaxholm was at full capacity, which had always been a possibility given how small the hospital was. So Alma was advised to go to Stockholm.

All in all, it was a quick labour, just fifteen hours, with the help of a hormone drip to aid contractions. Alma managed on gas and air, and Lisa was there the whole time.

Elias weighed a healthy eight pounds and six ounces, and had a good set of lungs, screaming down the delivery room just seconds after he greeted the world, and Alma was completely in love. He was a bundle of perfection, and everything just felt right.

Alma had decided on the name Elias only after the birth, but the name had been on her mind for a while. There was no real meaning behind it, other than she liked the name. It was actually in the current top ten boys names in Sweden, so it wasn’t uncommon. But to Alma it was still a little different, and it seemed to suit him somehow. As for the middle name, she’d changed her mind a hundred times at least. But she didn’t want her son to grow up thinking she hadn’t loved his Dad. Lisa didn’t approve and made her thoughts very clear, when they were alone. Annika didn’t know, and if Alex had an opinion he’d smartly kept it to himself.

When Annika arrived, she was cooing over the baby, and Lisa waxed lyrical about what a trooper Alma had been. Of course, Alex couldn’t be kept away for long. The minute he found out Alma was in hospital, he’d been in constant contact with Lisa. Although it had sort of been agreed that he wouldn’t visit whilst Alma was still in hospital, he did come the following day when the doctor confirmed Alma and Elias could go home, and Alex was keen to be the one to pick them up and take them back to the villa.

It was wonderful having Lisa and Alex around those first few days into motherhood. They insisted Alma slept, and would wake her when Elias needed to be fed. They helped with laundry and Lisa batch cooked and froze so many meals that Alma would have enough to last at least a month.

Alex had always been more of a practical support to her, but he’d surprisingly become more of an emotional shoulder for her. In those first few days, he would let her curl up on the sofa against him. Hold her when she had an emotional outburst, and rally her when she needed to hear that she was doing a good job.

It wasn’t easy.

She knew she’d be a bit uncomfortable after giving birth, it was a given. What she hadn’t been prepared for was the sheer agony of even just sitting on a chair without a cushion. Or how every time she went to toilet it would feel like she was pissing acid, and oh god… the blood.

Then there was the breast feeding.

It’s natural, the midwives insist every mother should try it.

The baby will know what to do, let the baby lead you.

Alma called bollocks on that!

The baby had even less of an idea than Alma, and those first few days, all Alma concerned herself with, was whether he was latching right, and if he was feeding for long enough. And her nipples were so, so sore!

Alex must have really liked her, because Alma was certain she had never looked so desperately unattractive in her life. Yet he still told her she was beautiful every time he saw her. She just wished she felt it too.

But eventually, Alma had to learn to manage on her own, and that came quicker than she wanted. Lisa left for home a week later, and Alex couldn’t be there all the time, as he did have a day job. Annika had the shop, and whilst she phoned the villa regularly, she couldn’t visit every day.

Once more. Alma was alone.


	21. Chapter Twenty

“How did we miss this?”

“Because searching deed poll didn’t occur to us,” Ben chipped in, rather unhelpfully. Tom had always been thorough. Even more so in this instance, they’d searched for Alma’s birth records in every country her father had served, but they’d found nothing. It had put a spanner in the works, because of all the times Tom had needed to do an identity check, there had never been an issue in finding this information.

“She’s got this whole other life…” Tom swiped through the documents on the tablet Ben had given him. Birth Certificate, in Swedish, with her real name. Alma May Berglund George. Deed poll documents, certifying that at the age of eighteen she dropped the Berglund.

As soon as they had this detail, it was all too easy to get more information on where she might be. It was just a case of proving it.

A house, left to her by her Grandmother somewhere in Stockholm, Sweden. Ben managed to find it on some online holiday letting website, and the images from her childhood photos were a match. A Swedish savings account, which had been recently used. Not many card transactions had been made, but several cash withdrawals in a town in the Stockholm vicinity – Vaxholm. It was one of the larger, and well populated islands on the Archipelago.

But they needed more. They needed absolute evidence of her location.

Ben started on CCTV. Which wasn’t that hard to get when you knew who to talk to. He started on the card transactions. But what he found was a bit odd. The times at which the card was used, Alma was nowhere in sight. Unless she’d grown a foot, and had a sex change. Both of the most recent occasions, the same man could be seen making purchases. Had he stolen the card?

“His name is Alexander Magnusson. He’s an architect,” Ben swiped the screen to show Tom the stills from the CCTV footage, “He’s been using her card, for small purchases. Clothes mostly. Women’s clothes, so I think he is connected with her.”

Tom released a breath with sounded remarkably like a growl.

“His mother lives on Vaxholm, the house…or villa I suppose is a more apt description, is some twelve kilometres away, on a smaller island in the Archipelago.”

“And she’s definitely there?”

“I believe so. I sent Miller and Jones ahead to assess the situation. They won’t make a move until we get there. Also, there’s this,” Another swipe, and another CCTV capture. In this image Lisa could be seen in full, and the back of a man who looked very much like Alexander from the previous images, and then, right in the corner, almost cut off from the frame, was Alma.

Tom stared hard at the image, he’d not seen her in so long. Even though he could only see a small part of her face and even less of her body, it was most definitely her and his heart jumped into his throat.

“When was this?”

“Just over a week ago. In the carpark of a Stockholm hospital. Mr. Magnusson checked in his car, so I though it worth a look. I was pretty surprised to see Miss. Roth, and then I noticed Alma,” Ben explained, and before Tom could ask any more questions, he continued, “I’ve tried to get hospital records, I’m afraid I’ve had no luck. We don’t know why they were there.”

The car pulled up on the tarmac at London City Airport, where a private jet awaited Tom’s arrival.

“You’re not coming?” Tom asked, when he noticed Ben didn’t move to get out the car.

“I need to run the club,” Ben reminded him, as if it was obvious, “Miller and Jones are all the brawn you’ll need on this. Do you have everything you need.”

Tom patted his jacket, signifying he had on his holster, and he had what he needed tucked beneath.

“You have a room booked at the Haymarket for tonight. Please use it, the men are mapping out the situation, so do not go in there all guns blazing,” Ben warned, and Tom rolled his eyes. Despite his urgency to find Alma, he was not one to go rushing in to a situation headfirst, “Get some sleep.”

“Sleep,” Tom scoffed.

“At least try…you need to keep it together. Don’t…do anything rash.”

“I’ll do what’s needed,” Tom said with finality. Then he left the car without looking back, and boarded the waiting jet.

∞

Alma knew she was being watched.

She’d known for a couple of days.

It wasn’t just a feeling either. There had been a boat out on the water, far enough away that she couldn’t see who was on it, but close enough to recognise that it was the same boat, and it had passed several times. Even stopping at some points and just, floating there.

It wasn’t a big boat. Just a small speed boat, similar to the one secured in the boat house, which she wasn’t overly sure was able to even start, she’d not had the opportunity to try it out, but Alex had promised to take a look at it before the summer.

She’d also noticed the glint on the boat, like the sun was reflecting off of something. A pair of binoculars she guessed.

Alma didn’t do anything straight away, she didn’t want to cause a scene. She’d just been putting laundry on the line, and perhaps she was just a little paranoid given her vulnerable state. She was feeling protective over Elias, and she was still not at her full strength. Still swollen and uncomfortable below. Sleep deprived since Lisa had left her. If someone turned up now, there was no way she could fight them off.

Which meant she was more on edge than normal.

The second day she saw the boat again, whilst pottering on the terrace with her new potato pots (a gift from Annika). Alma had calmly walked inside and up to the front bedroom where she kept her own binoculars. When she looked out at the water, her suspicions were confirmed, two men in a boat, paying a lot of interest in her house.

A downside of the remote island she lived on, which she hadn’t considered up until now, was that she was trapped. She couldn’t go anywhere. But then, even if she could, where would she go now?

Alma called Lisa later on the second day, when the boat finally disappeared, and let her know the jig was up. Tom knew where she was, and she didn’t think she could get away quick enough. Lisa of course argued that she could immediately get a boat into the city, and get a plane out of there. But Elias wasn’t even registered yet, so she couldn’t take him anywhere. And if she was honest, she didn’t have the energy to run anywhere. She’d given birth just less than a fortnight ago. She was in no fit state to go on the run again.

So Alma reiterated their pre-meditated plan. Alma would check in via text with Lisa every hour. If she didn’t receive a text, then she was to leave it two hours, then she’d do what she needed to do.

Alma was exhausted.

She’d not slept, instead she stayed awake all night, shooting off her hourly texts and keeping watch out the window, whilst also keeping up Elias’ regular feeds and changes. She bathed him, and dressed him in a fresh outfit. She walked around the house, bouncing him in her arms, hesitant to let go of him.

“Mummy loves you,” she repeated, along with other words of reassurance, more to herself than to the sleeping infant, whilst she waited, for what felt like the end.

When she heard the sound of a motor boat approaching, she headed upstairs and settled Elias down in his wicker Moses basket. He was sound asleep, breathing steadily, looking like an angel. Alma pressed a gentle kiss to his little hand, and then sat at the top of the staircase and waited.

∞

“It looks empty,” Tom followed Miller and Jones, the two men Ben had sent ahead to map out the small island, and make sure Alma was actually there, and whether she was alone. They’d established that no one else was in the villa with her, and she appeared to be quite self-sufficient. Not once leaving the island in the three days they’d been watching her.

“She’s inside, Sir,” Miller, the one who seemed to have stepped up between the two to take charge of the mission. spoke up first, “She’s got no way of getting off the island.”

“Can we be sure, we know she has friends.”

“No one’s arrived or left the island in days,” Miller confirmed, as they stealthily circled the parameter of the property.

“Terrace door is unlocked, Sir,” Jones, the younger of the two men appeared from the opposite direction.

“She knows we’re here,” Tom stated, reaching for his own gun. He didn’t trust that she wasn’t alone. They still didn’t know exactly what involvement this Alexander Magnusson had – what if she’d pulled him in to protect her. They had no idea what lay on the other side of that door. Also, he knew for a fact, Alma could handle a gun, he’d taken her to a shooting range and made sure she knew how to protect herself.

Miller and Jones entered first. Tom walked in behind, and took in the large kitchen. A bowl and mug sat draining by the sink, signs that it had been recently used.

“Sir,” Miller’s voice called from the hall, followed by another sentence, not aimed at him, “Stay where you are, don’t move, and I won’t shoot.”

Tom strode in the direction of the voice and walked into a large open lobby, and at the foot of the stairs Miller stood, arm raised, and his gun pointed towards the top of the staircase. Jones hung back a couple of steps, his own weapon also poised.

Slowly, Tom approached, until he stood behind the two men, and could look straight up the stairs. There, sitting on the top step, looking rather pale, but otherwise wearing a blank expression, was Alma.

“Well. I was expecting more of a fight,” Tom said, very calmly, “Are you going to come down, love? Have a little chat?”

“No,” Alma shook her head once.

“Now…there’s no need to make this harder than it has to be.”

“I don’t want to talk. Please do whatever you’ve come to do to me, and leave,” Alma said, resolutely, her face still giving nothing away.

“Very well,” Tom said, his own voice so calm that Alma had to focus even harder not to show of utterly terrified she was, “Miller, restrain her. Jones, search the property.”

At those words, Alma flew up, and ran. She went in the only direction she could, which was up, and in her mind she had to keep them away from her baby. She went for the front bedroom. But Miller was hot on her heels, and before she was properly inside the room, a pair of brutish arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides, and effectively paralysing her.

Within minutes, Alma found herself on the bed, with her hands bound uncomfortable behind her back with tape – she wasn’t sure where the tape had come from, she’d been too busy struggling. Tom stood at the end of the bed, just watching, whilst the huge man grappled with Alma’s flailing legs, finally pinning them together and wrapping the thick black tape around her ankles. He tore another piece of tape, and grabbed Alma by the hair, ready to slap it across her mouth, when Tom halted him.

“That won’t be necessary, Miller.”

The man let go of her roughly, and without any real use of her arms or legs, Alma slumped onto her side, with a yelp. She hurt all over from the rough treatment of her still healing body.

“Well, I must say. You’ve got yourself a nice little set up here,” Tom started, as he circled the bed and perched himself on the edge, next to Alma, he slipped his hand into his jacket, and from it he pulled out his hand gun. He didn’t take off the safety, but he rested on it knee, right in Alma’s eyeline, as a warning.

Alma pursed her lips and didn’t say anything. She wished it was because she had nothing to say, but honestly, it was fear keeping her so silent.

“Nothing to say, darling?” Tom asked, looking down at her, Alma stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact, “Shame.”

He reached out and touched her hair, surprisingly gently.

“I killed Brie. I think you should know that straight up. Had you told her where you were going, she’d have bent. She’d have told me, and she’d still be alive. Maybe not quite as beautiful, I’d have made sure she had a permanent reminder of what happens when you betray my trust. But I’d have spared her life,” Tom was so calm as he spoke, tangling his fingers into Alma’s curls, but not pulling. When he saw a tear leak from the corner of her eye he wiped it away carefully, and tutted, “There now… I promise it was quick. She hardly felt it.”

“You’re sick,” Alma choked, finally managing to speak.

“Now, now,” Tom shook his head and stood up, pacing the room, “No need to be nasty.”

“They were just children,” Alma stuttered, glaring over at where he’d stopped by the window and turned back to her, his tall frame blocking the light and casting a shadow across the room. He sneered.

Alma had never seen that expression on his face before.

“Just children? Do you have any idea what your little rescue mission cost me?”

“I’m sure it was just a drop in the ocean,” Alma hissed back, “Those children didn’t deserve what you had planned for them. It wasn’t their fault that their Dad was a criminal, they were innocents.”

“Do you think I care?”

“No, I don’t. If you cared, we wouldn’t be here now.”

“No, you misunderstand me, Alma,” Tom strode towards her so quickly, that when she tried to move away, all she managed to achieve was rolling onto her back, and wincing as her arms became trapped beneath her, “Do you think I care that –”

But Tom was cut short by a tiny but shrill cry piercing the air. Tom’s head turned first to the doorway, and then back to Alma with a questioning glare. Her eyes had gone wide, and for the first time Tom could see the blank expression she’d been wearing give way to genuine fear.

“Sir, you need to see this,” came the gruff voice of Jones from down the hall.

“No –” Alma tried to argue.

“Keep your gun on her,” Tom instructed Miller, who’d been standing obediently by the bedroom door, as if barricading the only way out. Like Alma would be in any position to make a run for it.

“Tom! No, please!” she cried after him, struggling from her prone position, but stopping short and letting out a terrified sob, as Miller stepped up to her and she found herself staring down the barrel of his gun. A stark warning to shut up and behave.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

Elias’ cries continued, and Alma’s heart pounded in her chest, as tears streamed down her face. She could do nothing but wait, on bated breath. She was sure she’d never been so horrified in her entire life.

Then the tiny cries drew closer.

Tom appeared in the doorway. The tiny squawking infant nestled in his arms, somewhat awkwardly. He looked like he’d never held a baby in his life – if Alma had been less scared, and of calmer mind, it might off occurred to her that perhaps he hadn’t.

“Well, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Tom said, walking closer, but not close enough for Alma to reassure her baby that she was near.

“Don’t hurt him,” she pleaded through desperate sobs.

“Hurt him?”

“Please, please,” Alma continued to beg, hysterically. Tom looked from her to the infant in interest, “Take the tape off, please let me hold him. He needs me.”

“Not a chance,” Miller responded, and she felt the end of the barrel touch her temple.

“That’s enough Miller. I need her talkative, not petrified.”

The brutish man finally lowered his weapon and stepped back, retreating to the doorway.

“Please, Tom,” Alma pleaded struggling to sit up, and repeating her earlier plea, “Don’t hurt him.”

“Do you really think I’m that much of a monster?”

Alma looked at him blankly. She wasn’t going to answer that, he wouldn’t like what she had to say. So he continued.

“Well, it seems you’ve been rather busy. It didn’t take you long to move on.”

“Move on?” Alma frowned, but her eyes were fixed on Elias, who was still crying. Tom talked over the noise.

“Tell me about Alexander Magnusson?”

“Please, let me hold him, Tom…you’re scaring him.”

Tom looked down at the baby in his arms, and bounced him a little. The cries calmed slightly.

“Alexander Magnusson?” Tom repeated, when the crying stopped.

“Alex…” Alma frowned, “He’s a friend.”

“Seems like a little more than a friend,” Tom bounced the infant in his arms, suggestively.

“What? No…he’s not…” Alma couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Surely he wasn’t that dense? “I thought you were good at maths. Tom…I was pregnant when I left. That’s… he’s… Elias is your son.”

Tom paled.

He looked down at the baby in his arms. It felt like his silence lasted hours, but in reality it was just a few minutes. When he finally spoke it was to Miller.

“Free her hands, and leave us.”

“Sir?”

“You heard me, Miller.”

So he did as he was told. He put his gun back into its holster and retrieved a small flick knife from his pocket. He none too gently pushed Alma over on the bed, drawing a whimper from her. Then he sliced the tape and tore it from her wrists. When he was done, he left, an Tom and Alma were alone. With their child.

“Elias?”

“Elias Thomas George.”

Tom’s eyes were glassy, and his grip on the child tightened.

“You…you left.”

“I had to.”

“You took him away from me.”

“To keep him safe.”

“I’d never hurt him.”

“You were going to traffic two innocent children out of the country, Tom! Not to mention the fact that…that you couldn’t marry me because it put me in danger, so how could I consider bringing your child into the public eye? If I’d have told you I was pregnant…” Alma trailed off, as Elias started fussing again. His head turning towards his mother’s voice.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s scared! He’s not even two weeks old, he doesn’t recognise your smell or your voice. He needs me.”

Tom looked at Alma sceptically. But the wails that the tiny baby released just seconds later made up his mind. He finally moved towards Alma and carefully placed the distressed infant into her waiting arms. Almost instantly the crying ceased, and Alma held him close to her chest, uttering sweet reassurances.

When Tom sat himself on the edge of the bed, Alma’s eyes met his and he could see wariness there. She was so scared of him.

“You betrayed me.”

“What?”

“I trusted you. You promised you’d never leave, you accepted me for what I was. You knew what I was. You were never meant to be involved. But you involved yourself. You lost me millions of pounds…not just by fucking up the Boswell job.”

“I had to leave.”

“You didn’t have to do what you did.”

“Yes… I did. You see… I’d only found out I was pregnant that morning, the same morning Brie…” Alma paused, remembering her only recent discovery of Brie Osman’s fete, “The same morning that Brie came and told me what you had done. What you were planning. She wanted me to talk to you. To try and change your mind.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Because you’d have known she’d told me. And it wouldn’t have changed your mind. Would it?”

“No,” Tom admitted.

“But you see…I’d already spent that morning trying to figure out what I was going to do. Up until then, I’d not wanted to lose you, but I knew a baby would change everything. I thought perhaps you’d change. But then I found out those children,” Alma explained, “And… and knew I had to leave. I had to get me, and my baby as far away as possible from you. And if I was going to disappear, I could try and right at least one of your wrongs before I did.”

“It wasn’t your place to involve yourself in my business.”

“Yes, Tom, it was!” Alma snapped, and Elias whimpered in her arms. She shushed him for a moment, and Tom watched in fascination. The baby turn his head into his mother’s chest, as if trying to get impossibly closer, “He’s hungry, can you…? I need to feed him.”

“What do you need?”

“For you to leave the room.”

“I’m not leaving the room.”

“Then turn your back.”

“Why?”

Alma looked exasperated, but she was too tired to argue. Instead she shuffled back up the bed, so she could rest against the headboard, and to Tom’s fascination, she lifted the lose t-shirt she wore, and unclipped the front of her bra. Within seconds, the baby had latched on, and was suckling away contentedly.

“Is…are you…are you okay?”

Alma looked up at Tom in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

“I mean…the birth? The pregnancy. Was everything okay?”

“It was good, all things considered. He was a week early. But the birth was fine… it hurt, but it’s childbirth, it’s meant to.”

“You shouldn’t have been alone.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Alexander –”

“No!” Alma snapped, “Alex is a friend. His Mum lives on Vaxholm… he’s been helping out around the house. My friend Lisa was with me.”

“Ah yes, I know of Miss. Roth,” Tom nodded, but his eyes never left the tiny infant who was getting his fill, “Another one of your secrets.”

“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk about keeping secrets,” Alma scoffed, “I had a life before I met you, Tom. That’s what happens. I never purposely kept secrets from you. You never asked. You thought you knew everything about me.”

Silence fell between the two. Elias finished his feed, and almost instantly fell asleep again. Alma sorted herself out, and then continued to cradle the baby in her arms. Tom noticed the adoration which she had in her eyes when she looked at her child, their child.

He reached out with one hand, he wanted to touch her, to feel her. Just to cup her cheek in his palm and feel the softness of her skin. But when she noticed his hand drawing nearer, she jerked away.

“Don’t you dare touch me.”

“Can I hold him?”

“No.”

Her arms flexed and tightened around the baby. She didn’t trust him.

“What are you going to do to me?” Alma asked eventually. She’d obviously been thinking about it. Miller and Jones were still in the house, somewhere. Tom still had a gun inside his jacket. He’d come with the intention of making her pay. But that had changed, not just because of Elias.

“You’re going to come home.”

“This is my home.”

“No, you’re coming back to London. Then I’ll decide the best way forward.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Tom didn’t answer straight away. Honestly, he’d wanted to. Not without making her suffer first, but it had been his intention. Those who wronged him, always got their comeuppance. But then he’d seen her, and he knew, before he’d even discovered he had a son, that he couldn’t kill her.

“Tom?”

“I’m going to take you home.”

“Why?”

“Because you have my son, Alma.”

“No, no way. You aren’t having any part of Elias’ life,” she shook her head sharply, and locked her eyes with his, properly for the first time, and Tom could see it clearly. Her hatred for him.

“That’s not for you to decide.”

“Yes it is. I’m his Mother. I’ve carried him, I’ve kept him safe. I would give my life to keep him from you and your poisonous life. You are not fit to be a father,” the words rushed from her mouth, and Tom’s eyes darkened.

“I’m being generous. You know I have the power to simply take him,” It wasn’t a question, “I could provide a good life for him. You wouldn’t stand a chance, Alma. I could make it so you never see him again.”

“You’re wrong in the head,” Alma snapped, “You know that, don’t you? You have serious problems, mentally, Tom. I don’t think you get it, do you? Money will not keep him safe. You will not keep him safe. You are his biggest threat. Not, your life, or your work. You, Tom.”

Tom frowned.

“Are you going to do that to your own flesh and blood? Raise him without a mother? Raise him to be like you? A criminal, a murderer? Someone who goes around, doing exactly what they want, regardless of the consequences, and holds no remorse whatsoever.”

“Remorse? I feel remorse, Alma,” Tom argued.

“No, Tom. You don’t. Regret, perhaps, but not remorse. Tell me…the children. Minnie and Huxley. What would have happened to them?”

“They’d have been moved out of the country. Sold.”

“Trafficked.”

“That’s the official terminology. Yes.”

“And what happens to children who are trafficked, Tom?”

“Many things.”

“Many horrible, unpleasant things.”

“That’s not my problem.”

Alma gave Tom a hard stare. Her point proven.

“Now we’ve established you’re not going to kill me, I’d like you to release my legs,” she gestured down at her ankles which remained bound, “I need to change Elias’ nappy.”

“I can give you both a good life, Alma. A house, money –”

“I don’t want your dirty money, Tom. It’s blood money,” Alma hissed, and kicked her legs, “Get this off.”

“No.”

Alma could see panic in Tom’s eyes. For the first time, he knew he was losing the fight. She was not going to fall for his charms, or his offers of safety. Because he’d failed her too many times. Because now she knew she and Elias were in no immediate danger of being physically hurt. He was losing control of the situation.

Which made Alma realise that she had the upper hand. Despite still being bound at the ankles, and Tom still having two armed men somewhere in the house, and a weapon of his own. It occurred to her that he did not intend to punish her for ruining his deal all those months ago. He was more concerned by her leaving him, and whilst he’d come with the intent to hurt her, now it seemed all he wanted was to keep her prisoner. Not to let her leave him again.

He was conflicted and Alma knew this could work in her favour, because somehow, she’d always had a certain amount of power over him.

“Tom…please. Elias needs changing, otherwise he’ll get a nappy rash. You need to let me care for him.”

Eventually, Tom nodded. He didn’t have a blade, but he tore the tape off, unravelling it, until Alma was free. Alma managed to move to the edge of the bed, but when she went to stand Tom blocked her, his hand automatically going to his gun.

“I need to go into the nursery,” Alma explained, her voice gentle and her eyes met his, “You can come.”

Tom left the room first and Alma followed. Miller stood at the top of the staircase.

“Sir?”

“I can handle this, Miller,” Tom responded gruffly, “Disarm, and assist Jones.”

“What are you looking for?” Alma asked, “There’s no one else here. There’s no cash. I have a mobile phone, it’s in the kitchen drawer, under the kettle.”

“Go and get the phone,” Tom instructed Miller, and the man nodded, before descending the staircase, “Which one is the nursery?”

There was four bedrooms upstairs, and a large family bathroom. The smallest of the bedrooms, although still a fair size, was at the back of the house. It overlooked woodland, and the small outbuilding which housed the sauna. Elias was too young to sleep in there, but it was where the changing table was set up with nappies.

Tom stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit, whilst Alma calmly cleaned Elias, and put a fresh nappy on him. She dressed him in a clean baby grow, and turned back to Tom.

“I don’t want your men in my house,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but firm, “Send them away, and we can talk.”

“Talk?”

“Yes, Tom. We have a lot to talk about. Unless you want to leave as well. But somehow, I don’t think you’re going to go quietly?”

“I need to make some calls,” Tom nodded, “Can I trust you to stay up here? You’re not going to climb out a window or anything are you?”

It was a dig. But Alma refused to react, she just shook her head, and Tom retreated downstairs.

So Alma sat in the rocking chair which was by the nursery window and waited, listening. Though she couldn’t really hear what was going on. Some fifteen minutes later Alma could hear the sound of the motorboat by the jetty starting up and then retreat into the distance. They’d left? Whilst she’d asked Tom to get the men out of her home, she’d not expected them to leave the island.

“You have some missed calls,” Tom stood in front of Alma holding her phone out to her, “Your friend seems eager to get hold of you.”

Alma reached for the phone, expecting to see missed called from Lisa. But the screen read three missed calls from Alex. Followed by a text asking if she was okay.

“He’s very keen.”

“What do you want me to tell you, Tom?”

“Is there something going on between you and Alexander?”

“What difference does it make?”

“Have you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t. I pushed a nine pound baby out less than two weeks ago. Surprisingly, sex is pretty much the last thing on my mind right now.”

“Alma –”

“Are you hungry? You must have had a long day. I’ve got some bolognaise in the fridge,” Alma stood and walked past him, “I assume you’re staying?”

“I’m staying.”

“Okay,” Alma nodded, and started down the stairs, “Oh, and not that it’s any of your business. But Alex and I are just friends. But only because it’s not exactly a good time for me to be considering a new relationship. Especially seeing as I’m still pretty messed up from my last one. He’s a good man, and he thinks a lot of me. He’s kind, and understanding. Oddly enough, I think you’d like him. He’s an architect. He’s good at maths.”

Alma would not let go of the baby. He slept with a head on her shoulder, as she put pasta on the hob, and heated left over bolognaise in the microwave.

“How is Jessica?” Alma asked, when they’d finished eating at the small kitchen table, for the most part in silence. 

“She is worried sick about you, and thinks I’m the devil incarnate,” Tom responded with an eyeroll.

“Well she’s not far wrong,” Alma snipped back, and moved to adjust Elias, her hand cupped the back of his tiny head, and stroked his soft, fine, baby hair. But Tom’s eyes zoned in on Alma’s hand.

“Where is your ring?”

Alma locked eyes with him.

“It’s gone.”

“Alma –”

“It was a lie, Tom. Everything was a lie, the…the cottage. The Refuge.” Alma spat the name, which Brie had remembered to her all those months ago, “It was never for me, it was never about your commitment. I was a scape goat.”

“That’s not true!”

“Yes, Tom. It is, and I’d like to think it wasn’t intentional. But I know you. You’re a smart man, and every move you make is so carefully planned out. You knew what you were doing.”

“The cottage was supposed to be yours. I didn’t know I’d have use for it. It was not intentional, and I admit, I was hoping you’d never find out,” Tom defended himself, desperately, “But my intention behind gifting it to you remains unchanged. It was done out of love.”

“Love?”

“Yes, Alma. Love.”

“I’m not sure you understand what that word means, Tom. I don’t think a man with a heart as cold as yours could ever truly love another person. Brie knew that, she tried to warn me. She might have been an awful person, but she was only that way because of you.”

“Brie was a woman in a world of men. I taught her how to survive. I pulled that woman out of the gutter when she was just nineteen. She owed everything to me, if it wasn’t for me taking her in and giving her a job she’d still be pulling tricks in Soho,” Tom scoffed.

“Instead, she’s dead. By your hand.”

“She sacrificed herself. She knew what would happen if she betrayed her loyalty to me.”

“She loved you, Tom! She loved you, and she knew, no matter what, you’d never be able to love her back. She did not deserve to die. She loved you, despite knowing what you were capable of, but you crossed a line. You lost her loyalty when you proved how evil you truly are,” Alma cried, and Elias whimpered on her shoulder, “That’s when you lost mine too. That is why the overpriced rock you gave me is at the bottom of the Archipelago, where it belongs. Somewhere as cold and dark as the empty cavern in your chest where your heart should be.”

Alma stood up and left the kitchen, breezing through the house and up the stairs towards the second bedroom, the one she slept in. Not the master bedroom which she’d been restrained in earlier that day. Elias’ crib was by the bed, and she set him down, knowing he needed to sleep properly. She stroked his cheek, and smiled down at him.

“He’s perfect.”

Tom was in the doorway. He’d lost his jacket, tie and gun holster. The top few buttons of his shirt were now undone. Alma looked at him from where she sat on the edge of her bed. He looked as tired as she felt and now he’d lost a few layers, his put together façade had wavered. He looked vulnerable.

“He is. You’ve done a lot of evil, Tom. A lot of bad things, but Elias is one of the few good things you’ve done,” Alma sighed, and willed herself not to cry. These days tears seemed to flow so much easier, Annika had told her that’s what happened when you became a mother.

“That’s why I still named him after you. Because, I can’t pretend what we had wasn’t real for me, or that I didn’t feel anything for you. For me, Elias came from a place of love, and you left me with something I never thought I’d have,” Alma rushed to wipe her tears away with the back of her hand, not wanting Tom to see, but knowing it was probably too late, “I’ve always been alone, but I’m not anymore. Please don’t take him away from me.”

“I won’t,” Tom croaked, stepping further into the room, “I couldn’t. I can’t. I don’t want to hurt you, Alma.”

“You already did.”

“What can I do?”

Tom looked truly desperate, standing before her. Tired and worn, not his usual put together self, the last few hours, maybe even, weeks? Months? Had taken their toll. A tear slipped, and then another. He was crying. Alma had only ever seen him cry once before, that time, so long ago, where he’d sat in the bath, sobbing, because he knew he’d never be able to keep her safe. But she’d still stayed. That had been her warning, and she’d ignored it.

“The right thing.”

“I don’t know what that is, Alma?”

“Hand yourself over. Give it all up. Do the time you deserve. Prove to me you feel remorse for your actions, all of them. Not just to me, prove it to him,” Alma nodded at the sleeping baby, “Don’t let him grow up believing his father to be a monster.”

“Is that honestly how you see me?”

“It’s how I see your actions. You scare me, Tom. Because, I don’t know what motivates you. Because I’ve known you a long time, I’ve known you intimately, and whilst I know you own many nice things, you are not driven solely by money. It’s nice, and it helps, but you’re just as happy eating frozen pizza, as you would be dining in the finest restaurants. Which makes me believe it’s more than the money… maybe it’s the adrenaline? The control? The Power?”

Tom frowned.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes, it does. Why would someone do so many awful things, without reason?”

“I have reason.”

“Do you really? Because I find it hard to justify kidnap or murder, no matter what the circumstance,” Alma bit back, “I don’t want my son being raised with the same morals as his father. I want him to be a better man than that. If that means keeping him as far away from you as possible, then that’s what will happen.”

“If I change?”

“You can’t change.”

“I can try.”

“Don’t you get it, Tom? Trying isn’t good enough. It’s too late to try and change. That ship sailed long before you met me,” Alma sighed, and in that moment Tom looked utterly defeated.

“Too late?”

Alma noticed how he kept repeating what she was saying. Like he was trying to desperately understand what she was saying, but it just wasn’t sinking in.

“What are you hoping to achieve here, Tom?” Alma wondered.

“I want you to come home with me, of your own volition. I want you to trust me, and let me love you and Elias.”

Alma looked down and the sleeping infant, and took a shaky breath.

“That’s not going to happen, Tom. You know that.”

She might as well have shot him in the heart.

A choked sob escaped his throat, and he’s knees buckled as he fell to the floor in a messy pile. Begging was something he’d never done, but he wasn’t beneath it at this point.

“Please, Alma.”

“Please what?”

“Please believe that I love you. I’ve loved you ever since the first day I saw you. I’ve never loved any other woman. I never will. The only reason I never gave up on finding you, is because I couldn’t. I cannot live without you!”

There was desperation in his voice, as he pleaded with her to believe him. Alma wanted to, desperately. In fact she did believe him. But she also believed that Tom had very little idea of what love really was. She wasn’t sure how much he understood of any emotion.

“You came here with every intention of killing me, Tom. You had your brute manhandle me and tie me up. You know me, and you knew I was no threat. That’s not how you treat someone you love, Tom.”

Silence.

But he didn’t break eye contact with her.

Then.

“I have to consider Ben, and everyone else I’m associated with. If I hand myself over to the police, everyone I have on the inside will be exposed.”

“Do you care more about them, than you do about your son? Or me?”

“I’d never see you again.”

“Yes you would. I promise.”

“How?”

“Because, that’s my offer. The only relationship you’ll ever have with Elias, will be one which involves you being in a high security prison, with highly guarded and supervised visitation,” Alma explained, voice level and incredibly calm, “It’s your call, Tom. It’s that or nothing.”

“What about my relationship with you?”

“There is no relationship, Tom. I will never be anything more to you than the mother of your child.”

Tom opened his mouth to argue.

“Don’t make this harder than it already is. I… I promise you, I’ll always be part of your life. I will keep my word,” Alma slid from the edge of the bed to the floor, bringing herself closer to Tom than she’d dared up until this point. She brought her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and wiping his tears with her thumbs. “You are Elias’ father, and I will always, always love you. But my heart is my own, it does not belong to you anymore. Please do the right thing, but do it for Elias, not for me.”

Tom’s eyes left hers and landed on his son, sleeping peacefully. Blissfully unaware of what was going on between his parents.

He stared at him for a long time without saying anything and Alma did not let go of him. Her hands moved, one to his shoulder, whilst the other cupped the back of his head, stroking her fingers through his hair, which was longer than she’d ever seen it, and was curling at the ends.

He looked beautiful.

And broken.

Because he was broken. He was damaged, and so very, very unwell. How had she not seen it? How had she never questioned his behaviour or lifestyle. He was so trapped by it, in so very deep, that in his mind there was absolutely no way out.

“I want you both safe,” Tom murmured eventually, “I don’t want either of you in any danger.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep you safe.”

Alma shook her head, but Tom couldn’t see. Though she knew he wasn’t looking for a verbal answer.

“Are they on their way?”

“Who?”

“The police?”

“I don’t know,” Alma answered, although she knew that they probably were. Lisa would have gone to the authorities several hours ago. Alex had called her numerous times, and she’d not responded. He’d have called Lisa by now, and she would have told him about Tom.

“Let me hold him, Alma,” Tom turned back to look at her, his eyes still full of tears, “Let me be a Dad, whilst I still can.”

Alma pursed her lips, still uncertain. But what danger was Tom to her or Elias now? He wouldn’t hurt either of them, and he had no way off the island until his men returned. She didn’t know what the agreement was there, but for now, there was nowhere for him to go.

“He needs a bath,” she started, “Would you like to help?”

Alma prepared a warm, shallow bath, in the plastic yellow baby bath with ducks printed around the outside. She set out towels, and got everything she would need ready.

“If you’d like to pick him up, and bring him through?” she asked gently. Tom had been sitting on the edge of her bed, simply watching his son, who had started to wake and was now staring back at him with wide eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Tom carefully put his hands carefully beneath the tiny baby, one hand under his head and neck, the other under his bottom. He lifted Elias out of his Moses basket, and held him for a moment, his sons big blue eyes watched him curiously.

“It’s okay,” Tom whispered, more to himself than to Elias. Then he lifted the baby to his shoulder and carried him through to the bathroom.

Alma let him do all the work. She talked him through what he needed to do, patiently. He lay Elias on the towel, and took off his baby grow, vest and nappy. He held him in the water, one hand beneath his head, as he used a soft sponge to wash his little body. Then he rinsed his fine hair, and couldn’t help but smile as his son looked blissed out by the water on his little head. Afterward, he lay him back down and wrapped him like a burrito. He dried him, and used baby lotion. Finally, he put on a fresh nappy and set of clothes.

“He needs a feed, then he’ll settle down a bit,” Alma explained, when they were back downstairs, and in the living room at front of the house. Tom allowed her to get comfortable, and then placed Elias in his mother’s arms and she allowed him to feed.

“You were born here?”

“Yes, in this house,” Alma nodded, “My mother had a quick and easy labour apparently, no time to get to a hospital.”

“You never told me,” Tom urged her, “You never spoke about your Mother.”

“She killed herself, Tom. She had me, I wasn’t even three months old. There was nothing to tell you. I grew up with my Dad being too broken to even utter her name, then in the summers I’d come here, and see my Mormor, and she’d blame my father for my Mum’s death. When I was tiny I was too young to understand, but as I got older, I did, and when my Dad died, I may have only been twelve, but I was old enough to know I wanted nothing to do with my Mormor. She died when I was fifteen. She left me everything.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I pretend that my father doesn’t exist. If he died I wouldn’t care, I wouldn’t even attend his funeral. He hurt my mother, he hurt my sisters, and he hurt me.”

“That’s not it… I just… resented the fact that everyone saw my Dad as the bad guy. All he did was fight for his country, and love his wife, and daughter. He loved me so much and they never saw that. I know my mother was ill, I know she suffered. But… Mormor focused so much blaming my father, she never tried to help my Mother. She must have been really sick…” Alma trailed off and looked down at Elias who was still feeding away happily, “Because, I can’t imagine leaving him. Abandoning him. It must have been really bad, if I wasn’t important enough to live for?”

“Alma –”

“I’m tired, Tom,” Alma stopped him, “Aren’t you? You look tired, when did you last sleep?”

“About six months ago, Alma,” Tom replied seriously.

“Why don’t you…use the shower? It’ll make you feel better. Then maybe try and get some sleep?”

It was getting dark outside, Alma wasn’t really certain what the time was though. What she did know that was that she had to make him comfortable. Allow him to relax. He wasn’t about to leave.

Tom shifted in his seat.

“I am quite tired,” Tom admitted, “Exhausted, actually.”

“I know. Use the main bathroom, I’ll finish up here and settle him down, and then I’ll fetch some towels and put them outside...erm…I’d offer to wash your clothes, but I’ve nothing for you to wear.”

“It’s okay,” Tom nodded, and stood up. He approached her slowly, and Alma held her breath. Then to her surprise he leant forward and pressed a kiss to Elias’ head, before making his way out of the room and up to the bathroom.

Alma had waited until she heard the water start before going to sort herself out. She’d settled Elias back in his Moses basket, then as promised she set towels down outside the bathroom.

It hadn’t been safe to reply to the numerous messages from Alex. It still wasn’t, but checking her phone there were no more messages. This was a good sign. It meant everything was going to plan.

By the time Tom was out of the shower, Alma had freshened herself up and prepared herself for bed. Although she knew she wouldn’t sleep. Tom needed to though. He needed to sleep because she wasn’t sure when the next time he’d have access to a real bed, and home comforts would be.

“Where can I sleep?” he’d asked, from the doorway. He’d put his clothes back on, but his hair was damp. He looked better already though.

“Where do you want to sleep, Tom?”

“In here, with you and Elias.”

“Okay,” Alma nodded, and patted the other side of the standard double bed. She wasn’t sure if Tom’s eagerness not to be too far from her and Elias, was caused by his concern that she might run again, or because he knew this was possibly the last time he’d see them both for a long time. But the defeated look he wore told her it was the latter.

He lay on top of the covers next to her, on his side facing her.

“Alma.”

“Yeah?” Alma had been watching Elias as he snoozed gently, his little chest rising and falling. She envied him, and how he was oblivious to the emotional turmoil going on around him.

“Was a always a terrible partner?”

Alma rolled onto her side, to face him. Very carefully, she leant forward and pressed her lips to his. It was a chaste kiss, there was no passion. But it was loving and gentle.

“No, Tom. You were a perfect partner. That was the problem.”

∞

Tom fell asleep quickly, but that didn’t surprise Alma. She wished she could do the same.

Instead she alternated between watching her baby, making sure when he woke for feeds she tended to him before he kicked up enough fuss to wake his father. Then she watched Tom. He looked so peaceful. Her heart ached.

Was this a mistake?

Perhaps she should have just agreed to go back with him?

It wouldn’t be awful would it? He loved her, he would put her somewhere safe. She’d never want for anything. Elias would attend the best schools, and never go without.

But she’d always know what Tom was capable of. Therefore would always be the underlying dread that when he went AWOL then turned up days later, that he’d have blood on his hands. Or that one day, the police would come knocking, and he’d be taken from them. That she’d be compromised, and Elias would be taken away from her.

No. This was the best way.

The ancient digital radio alarm on the bedside table showed it was just gone three in the morning when Alma heard a noise in the distance. The engine of a boat. She worried for a moment that it might be Tom’s men returning, but as it drew nearer she realised it was too loud. This was no small motor boat, this was a slightly larger vessel. She might not have lived by the water all that long, but she had started to become accustom to the different boats which frequented the Archipelago.

She shifted off the bed and picked Elias carefully from his Moses basket, before making her way to the front bedroom. There, from the window she could see to the end of the jetty. A police boat had moored, and several officers were disembarking. Just behind she could see a smaller boat. It was Alex.

Alma hurried back through the upstairs of the house.

“Tom,” she sat on the edge of the bed, and woke him, “Tom, you need to wake up?”

His eyes shot open and she sprung upright into a seated position, “What? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tom,” Alma reassured him, her voice steady, “You…you need to come downstairs.”

Tom frowned, and then his eyes focused on the bedroom doorway, just as a loud banging sounded at the front door.

“Alma…please,” Tom started, suddenly the Tom she’d seen the previous night, who’d cried at her feet, and pleaded with her tell him how he could make everything better, was gone. Now it was business Tom. “Please reconsider my offer. Tell them there’s been a misunderstanding, and come home with me.”

“I won’t do that, Tom.”

“Alma…”

“Do this for me and Elias, Tom. Please!” Alma cried.

Tom screwed up his eyes and covered his face with his palms. He look several deep breaths, and when he dropped his hands and looked back at her his eyes were once against filled with tears.

“I’m…Alma, I’m scared –”

Another round of banging on the front door.

Then Tom moved quickly, seemingly flying from the bed and out of the room. Alma gathered Elias in her arms and hurried after him. Was he thinking of trying to escape? He couldn’t go anywhere? She found him in the master bedroom, his back to her, leant over the bed.

“Tom, what are you –”

She stopped speaking, when Tom turned and pointed his gun at her.

“Go downstairs and tell them there has been a mistake. Ask them to leave,” there was a click as Tom removed the safety. His voice was level, but his eyes gave him away, red and watery. The hand holding the gun shook.

Alma stepped back, stumbling a little, and her grip on her baby tightened.

“What are you doing?” she half whispered, struck by fear when she noticed the madness radiating off him as he stood before her. He was acting out of fear and desperation.

There was a further round of pounding on the front door, then a voice sounded.

“If no one answers the door, we will make forceable entry.”

“Now, Alma. Do what I say –”

But Tom didn’t get to finish what he was trying to say.

There was an almighty crash as the front door was forced open, and then heavy footfall, as a number of officers stormed the property. The noise woke Elias, and he cried out loudly. Alma didn’t take her eyes off Tom, and in a swift motion his arm moved, and gun was no longer pointed at Alma and Elias.

Tom held the barrel to his temple.

“Tom!” Alma cried, panic stricken, “Please, Tom, don’t do this. Put the gun down.”

“I can’t do it, Alma,” tears streamed down his cheeks, and his hand shook.

“You can, Tom. Please…if not for me, then…” Alma swallowed thickly, hating herself for what she was about to do, “If you cannot do it for me, then do it for Elias. I never knew my Mother, don’t let him grow up without knowing his father.”

“He’s better off without me. You both are!”

“Please, Tom. Please…I love you.”

At her words, his stance relaxed. Then within seconds his eyes left hers, as his arm lowered to his side. He looked behind her, as he dropped slowly to his knees as set the gun down on the floor.

Several armed policemen entered the room, and Alma found herself being removed from the room, and lead back through the house. Everything seemed to move in slow motion and words were being spoken, and she responded, without really knowing what she was saying. 

The next time she saw Tom he was being lead through the downstairs of her house, his hands retrained behind his back and flanked by several armed police.

He looked like he might be sick.

“Alma,” he choked her name, as the armed police roughly moved him towards the door, his feet refused to co-operate and he stumbled, meaning the officers had to haul him upwards.

“It’s okay, Tom. I promise you’ll be okay.” Alma managed to say, before he was removed from her sight.

Tom was lead from the house, and then another officer spoke to Alma, something about needing to make a statement, and reassurance that Tom’s men had been picked up somewhere on Vaxholm, and that her friends and family were safe.

Then a familiar face entered the room. Alex’s large frame filled the doorway.

“Ally,” he breathed, looking utterly relieved to see her unharmed, he strode towards her, “Are you okay?”

She couldn’t speak, she just shook her head, and fell into his open arms, still clutching Elias to her chest.

“It’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re both safe. He’s gone. He can’t hurt you.”

Alma sobbed quietly into his shoulder for a moment, before pulling back and shaking her head.

“He’d never hurt me. I’m the only thing he knows how to love.”


	23. Epilogue

If it wasn’t for the two sets of security gates, and the rigorous body search she’d had to endure upon arrival at the facility, Alma would have found is easy to imagine she’d stepped through the doors to a country spa hotel, or some sort of yoga retreat.

It wasn’t the first time she’d visited, in fact it was the third. But she was still quite stunned how much from its outer appearance the building looked the farthest thing from what it actually was.

A high security institution for the criminally insane.

Actually, that probably wasn’t the politically correct name for it, but without beating around the bush. It was a psychiatric hospital.

It had taken a long time to reach this point. Almost eighteen months had passed since Tom had found her, and subsequently been arrested, and charged with a multitude of offences, varying from fraud and money laundering, to first degree murder.

The days following Tom’s arrest had been a complete blur. It had been extremely traumatic, made worse by the fact that Alma was still recovering from childbirth. She was hormonal, and sore, and the whole experience had been agonising. She’d been removed from the villa by the Swedish Police and taken in to give a statement. But the Metropolitan Police had already been made aware of the arrest, and it turned out they’d had their eyes on Tom and his dealings for several years, but had absolutely no evidence or grounds on which to make any arrests. Therefore, he’d been able to carry on his business without disturbance.

Alma was transported, along with Elias back to the UK, and Alex never left her side the entire time, except for when she gave her statements, and in those times, he would wait patiently, caring for her son, and keeping Lisa updated throughout. Lisa flew to the UK several days later and they were reunited.

But although Alma, for the first time in six months, was finally out of hiding from Tom, she learnt quickly that she was hiding from another threat altogether.

The press.

News of Tom’s arrest had hit the headlines, and it didn’t take long for them to find out about her.

When she was able, Alma made contact with Jess, and returned to her old home in Lewisham, and the reunion had been emotional. Jess was rightly angry at Alma for leaving how she had, and also putting her in danger, by pulling her into something she had no idea was going on. But mostly she was relieved that her friend was safe, and delighted to meet little Elias.

But as soon as she was allowed, Alma had returned to Sweden with Alex, to her remote Villa on the Archipelago, and to her only true family. Annika, who had been surprisingly calm, and supportive throughout the whole ordeal, and simply waited until Alma had been ready to relay her story in her own time.

Of course, Alma hadn’t been able to hide away on the remote island forever.

She was a key witness in Tom’s trial.

The trial was tedious, and Alma was only party to a small amount of it. Of course, Tom’s money brought the best lawyers, and there was always a chance he would get away with his crimes. But Tom wasn’t pleading not guilty. In fact, he admitted to everything he was accused of.

The psychological assessment was not requested by his own lawyer. Which when the news first reached Alma, she immediately jumped to the conclusion that it was strongly suggested he plead insanity. But it came from the Judge himself, rather early in the proceedings, he stated he could not begin to consider sentencing without such an assessment taking place.

Alma had never considered Tom to be mentally ill when they were together. But then again, she never considered that he might be a murderer, or involved in the kidnap of children. Although in the last twenty-four hours or so that they spent together, she saw signs of it. Desperation and obsession.

Tom’s life consumed him, and there was no way out because he simply couldn’t live without it.

He was found guilty of all charges, but it was also deemed that he was a very sick man, who if locked in any high security prison, would pose serious threat to not only the other inmates, but to himself.

The combined time for his crimes totalled more than three life sentences, but he was admitted to Broadmoor Hospital in Berkshire for the foreseeable future.

Despite everything, Alma had made one promise to Tom, and she intended to keep it. She told herself it was for her sons sake, and she didn’t want him to grow up not knowing his father. So she’d allowed Tom contact with her and Elias. But almost every single person in her life, including Tom’s own family disagreed with this choice, and stated Elias would be better off not having anything to do with Tom at all.

But none of them knew Tom like Alma did.

His behaviour throughout the trial, whilst sometimes unpredictable, was for the most part exemplary. Alma attended court and watched him from the public gallery as he was questioned, and she’d never seen him so honest, even if his answer incriminated him even more. Sometimes to a point where what she learnt of him turned her stomach, and still the lack of remorse was clear.

But his lawyer told Alma directly, when discussing visitation rights, that he didn’t want to lose her, and she was the only thing getting him through. He wanted to prove to her that no matter what happened, he was responsible enough to be allowed contact with his son.

Throughout the trial Alma was not allowed to see Tom without several officers present. The trial was not to be spoken about, and the sole purpose was for her to bring Elias to spend time with his father. Alma travelled between London and Stockholm on almost a monthly basis. The meetings were not the most pleasant, they took place in sparse rooms with hard furniture. Tom was not allowed to hold Elias, and one wrong move would result in an abrupt finish to the meeting. In that time Tom had been docile, and quiet. They were not visits which Alma enjoyed, but they’d been agreed with the judge at the trial, and she didn’t know what effect withholding contact might have on Tom’s mental state.

Since his sentencing, and admittance to Broadmoor things had improved hugely.

For starters, it was a hospital, not a prison, and whilst it was still heavily guarded, they were afforded more privacy. Visits took place in the family suite, due to Elias, and there were soft furnishings, and toys for him to play with. Tom was not in handcuffs and he could finally hold his son and play with him. They were under constant surveillance, and should there be any trouble, assistance would arrive in seconds.

More importantly, Tom was receiving help which he’d so desperately needed. Alma knew he was on medication, mostly to keep him calm and stop compulsions, but he also received different therapy sessions. Broadmoor might not be forever, and eventually he would likely end up somewhere like Belmarsh, but for now this was where he needed to be, and Alma had to admit, she preferred taking her son to a Psychiatric Hospital, over a Prison.

Today though, Elias was not with her. It wasn’t her first visit without him, but the difference was, this time Tom was expecting to spend time with his son, and she wasn’t quite sure how it would go down when he realised that wasn’t going to happen.

Alma was accompanied to a small, but comfortable sitting room, and told to wait, and Tom would be escorted along shortly. Moments later the door opened and Tom was lead in, flanked by two members of security.

He smiled broadly when he saw her, although it faded when he looked around and realised she was alone.

“Where’s Eli?”

“I’m sorry, Tom. He’s poorly –”

“You have forty-five minutes. Please give us a wave if you should wish to finish the session sooner,” the guard quickly interrupted and gestured to the one way glass, which from their side looked like a mirror. Security left and the lock of the door closed, the turn of the lock could be heard.

“What's wrong with him?” Tom asked urgently moving quickly across the room and stepping up close to Alma, not leaving much space between them. He seemed unaware of her body tensing up at the close proximity.

“He's fine Tom, its nothing serious. Last night he was a little sick and he wouldn’t eat his breakfast. I thought it best not to bring him, it would be too much excitement.”

“Oh...of...of course,” Tom nodded shortly but didn’t move back. His eyes roved over Alma and his eyes lit up once more, “You look really good. Perfect. You're glowing.”

“Oh,” Alma said, surprised. Although she shouldn’t be. Tom still made it no secret that he was utterly and hopelessly in love with her. He complimented her on every visit, “ You look good too. You…you’re looking really well, Tom.”

He did look well. He’d started to gain back the weight he’d lost throughout the trial. Through the latter part of the proceedings Alma had thought he looked extremely unwell. Gaunt and pale, and sometimes not quite with it. Although his clothes still fit him well, and he was always turned out impeccably. Despite his crimes, much of his money was still obtained through legitimate business. The hotels for example, more or less ran themselves, and even though they were owned by Tom, they were managed individually. Clearly, he’d arranged a tailor to ensure he always appeared respectable in all his court appearances.

Now though he wore some clean grey joggers and a white t-shirt that only clung to him loosely, and some white trainers. He was clean shaven, and his hair was clean and soft, free of product.

“I’ve been using the gym,” he explained, “It helps.”

“I brought some photos,” Alma’s hand shot out with the brown A4 envelope she’d been holding to her side since he walked in. Unsealed, because security had to check everything finely before it could pass through with her. Even her phone and handbag had been locked securely behind reception.

“Oh,” Tom took the envelope and then held out a hand to the small grey sofa, “Shall we sit?”

“Sure,” Alma nodded and she moved to take a seat. Tom sat next to her, impossibly close, his leg grazed hers, then taking her by surprise he picked up her hand from where it rested on her knee and threaded his fingers with hers.

“It’s really good to see you, Alma. I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”

A lump formed in her throat. This was nothing new, and it tortured her every time she visited. The sincerity in his words, and the intensity of his gaze. Was she giving him false hope by continuing these visits? Were they really for his benefit or hers? Alex had asked her that last time, after she returned home and simply cried.

“Erm…the photos. I was going to give them to you anyway, I thought you might like them in your room, Eli is getting so big now,” she said, gesturing to the envelope, and Tom let go of her hand, and delved inside, fetching out the large glossy prints she’d had done for him.

“Oh these are great…” Tom trailed off.

There was joy in his expression as he took in the pictures of his son. Photos taken over the summer months. Playing in the shallows of the water. Then sadness, his eyes glassy.

“I know you told me he was walking, I was so looking forward to seeing for myself,” Tom gestured to the photo of Eli standing on wobbly legs reaching for Rex, the Labrador she and Alex had recently adopted, “Whose dog?”

“Mine,” Alma smiled, “He’s called Rex.”

“You always wanted a dog.”

“You remember?”

“Because you got lonely, when I was away?”

“Not just that…dogs are loyal,” Alma regretted the words as soon as they left her lips, “Erm, sorry…that wasn’t a dig, Tom. It’s just, I’ve spent most of my life alone. I always craved the quiet company of a dog.”

“He’s rather big isn’t he? Is he good with Eli?”

“He’s great, he’s used to small children. Labs are family dogs. He loves the water too,” she chuckled.

“Is Eli with Jess today then?”

“Erm, no, actually…” Alma paused, not sure how he’d take what she was about to tell him, “We’re actually staying with your Mum and Emma for a few days. I’ve left him with them today.”

Tom was quiet for a moment, his lips pressed together.

Tom’s family had zero contact with him. The shock of finding out her sons true nature had nearly killed his mother. Diana had been unwell for several months, and Emma refused to accept any of his visitation requests.

It had taken Alma a while to reach out. She had no idea if they’d want anything to do with her, but she’d adored Diana and Emma when she and Tom were together. She couldn’t in good conscience keep Elias away from them.

It was hard at first. Having to explain her reasons for keeping quiet. Why she’d never said anything when she found out about Tom’s dark side.

But eventually, they took her in, and now, every time Alma came back to England, she would visit Diana and Emma and allow them quality time with Elias. They’d completely taken she and her son in, treating them as their own. Strangely, Alma finally felt like she had a proper family, with Annika and her extensions in Sweden, and then Diana in England. Not to mention she had Alex now, and over time they’d grown closer and closer. To a point where there was no denying they were no longer just friends. By that point Alma had been more than okay with it, and Alex was her everything.

“They have as much right to spend time with him, as you, Tom. I know it upsets you, but… it’s the right thing. He deserves a doting Grandma and Auntie, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.”

But he still looked dejected.

“I just feel like I’m missing out on so much. I should be there. I should be supporting you. If he’s up at night being sick, I should be there!”

“Doing what? Changing the bed sheets? Tom do you even know how a washing machine works?” Alma smirked, trying to make light of the situation, but only the slightest hint of a smile appeared at the corners of Tom’s mouth, “Hey, Tom, it’s fine. Stuff like that…I manage. I know you wish you could be there, but I have a lot of support. You know that?”

“From Alex.”

“Yes. From Alex. But also from my Great Aunt. I have a lot of friends.”

Alma didn’t mention Alex to Tom often. She’d not outrightly told him they were together, but he clearly knew. She’d never wish to rub it in his face. Also it was also a bit weird, talking to your ex-boyfriend about your current one. Tom’s moods could still be unpredictable. She knew really Tom should know how serious she and Alex were, hell he’d been living with her over six months now. But every time she thought about broaching the subject, she bottled out.

“Have you heard from Ben?”

There it was, the other question Tom asked every single time she visited.

“No, Tom. No one’s heard from Ben.”

Ben had done a disappearing act. As had his wife and children. Tom had given him the heads up back at the villa, hours before his arrest. When the police searched they found his London apartment empty, and when they went to visit the house his wife owned in Spain, that had also been abandoned. There was no trace of him leaving the country, which meant he’d likely given himself a new identity.

He could be anywhere now.

“Good…That’s good,” he nodded.

Well over a year later, Tom was still concerned that his friend was safe. He didn’t want Ben to be punished for any crimes he committed under his orders. Even if Ben willingly followed those orders. For some reason he had it in his head that if Ben was to try and make contact with anyone, it would be Alma. Which made no sense because Alma hardly knew the man.

“I’ve been having some sessions with a new doctor,” Tom changed the subject swiftly. He didn’t often talk about the treatment he received at Broadmoor. But Alma was keen to hear about it. It was reassuring that he was accepting of his condition.

“Oh yes? Are they going well?”

“Really well. He makes me think about a lot of things. Why I am the way I am. Why I don’t…can’t process my emotions like other people. The medication helps, but talking about it is…weirdly cathartic. It makes me see myself how others must see me, maybe how you see me.”

“How I see you?”

“As a monster.”

“Wow, erm… okay. I wouldn’t have put it quite like that.”

“I am, Alma. I see it. The things I’ve done, I know they’re monstrous things…I’ve got so much blood on my hands. What I did to Brie… she…she was…”

“Don’t do this to yourself, Tom,” Alma scooted closer and wrapped her arms around him. His sudden outburst of emotion took her off guard. In all her past visits, his focus had primarily been on Elias. “Please, it’s too late.”

“She wasn’t a bad person,” Tom took a sharp gasp of breath, “She loved me, she would have done anything for me. She was… she was such a special woman. I know she had her moments, and she gave you a terribly hard time. But… I cared a great deal for her.”

“I know.”

“You know, when I met her, she wasn’t even eighteen, and she was living in a Brothel in Shoreditch.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“She was too good for that, too smart. I knew that from the moment I met her, it was at a party. I offered her a job. She was such a good girl. She did everything I asked of her. Everything,” Tom choked, “I wanted her to have a better life, I gave her a start but she earnt her place on her own merit. But… all I did was pull her into my messed up world.”

“For what it’s worth, I think she loved her job, and her life with you. She only came to me because she was scared. For the children, and for you…Tom… are you…do you –”

“I hate myself, I hate that I’m capable such disgusting acts. I don’t…can’t even begin to justify what I’ve done,” Tom took a sharp intake of breath, “But… but I want to understand, and my new doctor is really helping me. That’s good, right?”

“It is. It’s very good, Tom,” Alma gave him a gentle squeeze.

“I’ve missed you, Alma.”

“I –”

“I know you don’t feel the same, I know you’re happy now.”

“I am happy yes. But don’t think I don’t care about you, Tom. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. If I was just doing this for Eli, why would I be here now?” It wasn’t easy for her to admit, but she did miss him. She’d missed him from the moment she’d left him, and that feeling of longing, whilst it had gotten easier, was still bubbling under the surface. It was harder still looking at her sons little face and seeing him look more like his father each passing day, “Sometimes…” Alma paused, wondering if she should tell him what she was about to. But then part of her knew that Tom needed to hear what she was going to say, “Sometimes, when Eli smiles, and laughs… he reminds me so much of you I find it hard to breath for a moment. I remember the happiest times we had together. I remember your face on our first date, after you experienced your first ever rollercoaster, and it’s hard to hold it together.”

“Does he look after you?”

“Hmm?”

“Does Alex take care of you?” Tom grasped one of her hands, then used his fingers on her chin to turn her head so she could look straight at him.

“You know I don’t need looking after, Tom,” Alma spoke quietly, “But yes…he does…he works hard, he helps me around the house. But not just practically…emotionally…he understands.”

“He must do, to be okay with you being here. He’s a better man than I could ever be.”

“We’re getting married,” the words blurted from Alma’s mouth before she could stop them. She knew she’d have to tell Tom eventually but she was hoping maybe she could wait a little. It was a new development, and she and Alex hadn’t really even talked about setting a date.

“What?” Tom withdrew.

“It…it’s new. I’ve not even told Jess or Lisa yet. Erm… I’m sorry. You deserve to know…I’m so sorry, Tom.”

Tom looked to the floor, and he was scarily silent. Alma felt her heart rate increase as she waited for a reaction. She glanced at the one way window, hoping they could see the concern on her face, and prepare to step in if needed.

“You’re getting married?” Tom said eventually. His voice was low and strained, it was clearly testing all his willpower not to lose himself.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ve really lost you.”

“Tom. You haven’t lost me. It won’t change anything.”

“It changes everything.”

“How does it? I’ll still visit, I’ll still bring Eli to see you. You’ll still be his Dad!”

“But you’ll never be mine again.”

“Tom, I told you before –”

“How can you marry him, when you’re still in love with me? How is that fair on anyone?”

“I love him! Tom. I do love you, I’ll never stop. But I love him too, and… with all due respect, even if you weren’t locked away in a psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life, I still wouldn’t be yours! I’m not doing this because he’s there and you’re not. I’m doing it because I love him, and I want to spend my life with him,” Alma cried, “You cannot expect me not to move on.”

“I just… I just can’t…can’t…”

“Tom…” Alma moved closer again, sliding along the small sofa and resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I do want you to be happy, Alma. But…he will never love you like I do. He won’t… he can’t,” Finally Tom looked up, and with little warning he took Alma’s face between his hands and pressed his mouth to hers.

She could have pulled away, he held her, but not tightly.

His lips were soft, but sure. His smell, still so familiar and her heart jumped at the contact. His tongue swiped at the seam of her lips, begging entry, and she allowed it, returning his kiss just as gently, and lovingly.

When Tom pulled back, he left her breathless, and he stared intensely into her eyes.

“Alma…if he ever hurts you, I swear, I’ll –”

“You’ll do nothing, Tom. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”


End file.
